


Scars and Stripes

by legendofcatnerd



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: And Robert Townsend fans, Ben is a hoe, Ben suffers from anxiety, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Mostly written for Ben fans, Robert Townsend actually gay in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofcatnerd/pseuds/legendofcatnerd
Summary: Rebecca Starling wants to take revenge against the British, who took away those who meant the most to her. She is on dangerous path when she meets Benjamin Tallmadge. While her skills in pickpocketing, escaping and weaponry prove useful to the Continentals, Rebecca insists to Ben and company that she plays strictly by her own rules. A close friendship with Robert Townsend, a growing fondness for Caleb Brewster and deep association with the Culper ring force her to choose a side, but she fears her past is rapidly catching up with her - and, most worrisome of all, that it might come for the young head of intelligence officer she has fallen in love with.





	1. Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> Changes: OC inserted into S1 E1, however the timeline will not strictly follow episodes. Historical/canonical liberties taken whenever necessary.
> 
> Content warning: Blood mention
> 
> **Please don't be shy and leave a comment! I originally posted this story on Tumblr (scars-and-stripes-fic), so feel free to send me a message there if you like. I love to write these stories not just for myself, but to entertain other Turn fans, so you might see some of your suggestions/requests there if you like.**

Autumn 1776

The cool chill of October air caused Captain Benjamin Tallmadge to shiver as he ran through the woods. The forest, thick with trees and brush, confused him. The path he and his Light Dragoons had taken was a different one, and in an enemy uniform, his anxious mind was reeling with fear.

Ben was running for his life, and the lives of the Continental Army. He had managed to escape the Queen’s Rangers (for now at least) and was the sole survivor of the group that had been ambushed. Ben’s heart ached as he remembered the small pool of water, stained red with the blood of his fallen brothers amidst the laughter of the Rangers. It was a nightmare he was not soon to forget.

“Halt, Tory bastard!”

Out of seemingly nowhere, a man clad in black clothing and pointing a musket at him appeared. Ben threw his hands up, his hands trembling, as the stranger glared at him from beneath a dark cloth wrapped around the lower part of his face, hiding the man’s identifying features. This did not appear to be an active militiaman.

“Where you headed and why you alone, Ranger?” The man demanded. Ben noticed his voice was a little strange, but couldn’t quite gage why.

Raising his arms caused Ben to wince, having almost forgotten about his shoulder wound, “I’m not a Tory…” He was getting dizzy and a little disoriented. His words left him and so too did his mind.

The man noticed Ben’s discomfort and seemed to be looking him over, “You’re no Ranger.”

Seconds later, Captain Tallmadge blacked out.

—

Leafless trees scraped at the late afternoon sky as Ben opened his eyes. He blinked, trying to figure out where he was and what had happened. Looking down, he seemed to be in a makeshift cot on the forest floor with a small straw-filled pillow and warm blanket. He started to worry, wondering how much time had passed.

“Don’t move too quickly, now.”

A woman’s gentle voice caught his attention. Ben turned and saw the fabric of a dress kneeling next to him, and from the sound of boiling liquid and the small whinny of a horse, he realized at once that he was in a sort of camp in the woods. With her aid, he managed to sit up. It was only the two of them in this tiny encampment.

Now, Ben was able to get a good luck, and to his surprise the woman seemed to be about his age, with hair dark as coal weaved into a long, intricate braid and deep brown eyes. There was a kindness to her, with warm tan skin that made her appear to be from another land. Was she from Europe? Italy? Spain? If so, how did she end up here, in the wilderness of America? Ben had so many questions.

She leaned over to press the back of her hand against his cheek and forehead, which for some reason caused him to blush. Ben admitted to himself that she was, in fact, quite beautiful. She said something about there not being a fever, but the captain wasn’t listening. All he could do was stare in awe.

“Don’t worry about your shoulder, I took care of it. Luckily the ball wasn’t in there as deep as it looked. Still, I made sure it was clean, stitched you up and there’s a good bandage on it now. I would take care not to go into battle anytime soon, if I were you.”

“Thank you,” Ben said quietly as he inspected the handiwork on his shoulder, “Might I ask your name, Miss…?”

“Rebecca,” the woman replied, and Ben smiled a little, “And you sir, were wearing a uniform that did not belong to you.”

“How did you know?” Ben asked.

“My husband is out catching rabbit for dinner,” Rebecca said, “And honestly, he’s the one who told me. I know the Rangers were several miles from here. This is safer territory.”

That identified the man in the dark clothing.

“Tell me, Mister…?”

Ben was unsure how to answer.

“Sir, if I had been a Tory, I’d have had my husband murder you the moment you came upon our camp.”

“And how am I to know you’ll not use me for trade with the enemy?” Ben asked defensively.

Rebecca smiled a bit, which softened him, “You don’t look nearly important enough for that, lad.”

“It’s Tallmadge. Captain Benjamin Tallmadge of 2nd Continental Light Dragoons.” Ben said proudly. He was pleased with his position, after all.

“Weeeelll. That sounds quite impressive,” Rebecca said with a light laugh, “Now tell me, captain, why on earth were you battling it out with the Rangers?”

“It’s a long story, but I managed to escape when the rest of my Dragoon unit were killed,” Ben explained, “I took the uniform after I killed one of theirs, but Rogers shot me.”

Rebecca’s tone changed, “Robert Rogers.”

“You’ve heard of him?” Strange, Ben thought. A woman wouldn’t know much of a rogue like Rogers. Unless it was something personal.

“Wobomagonda…” Rebecca whispered, a darkness falling upon her face.

“…I beg your pardon?” The language was not familiar to him.

“It means White Devil,” she gritted her teeth, which he found unnerving, “I hope you get the chance to murder that bastard.”

“White Devil?”

“That man’s reputation precedes him. Your friends are not the only ones he’s brought misfortune upon, Captain.”

Now Ben remembered that he urgently needed to inform his superiors of the ambush, “Rebecca, I must thank you sincerely, but I must be going-”

Rebecca nodded, handing him the shirt and jacket he had been wearing upon arrival, “I too must be moving on, since the sun will be setting within a few hours. We are quite close to their camp. If you head east, there is a passage through the trees that will get you there before nightfall.”

“Thank you,” Ben said as he quickly got dressed, “Where are you and your husband headed?”

“New York,” Rebecca said, “I’ve received word of a friend at a boarding house.”

“Godspeed to the both of you,” Ben replied, “And once again, I appreciate your help. You’ve aided our cause greatly.”

Rebecca nodded, “Sooner these redcoats leave, the better.”

—

Arrival in camp and talking with General Scott were less than fruitful. Ben exited the tent and was pacing in his own quarters now, too frustrated to consider sleep. What was so obvious to him seemed to be nothing to Scott.

Ben knew for a fact that it was a set up. Rogers and his men knew where they would be, but how? Was there a traitor in their midst? There had to be, somewhere in the camp. How would they locate him, and what else would go wrong before they did? Would it ever happen? These questions caused such a headache.

Scott laughed at the idea of a spy ring, but Ben knew it would be essential. Surely Washington would approve. In fact, Ben already had a few members in mind. People he knew he could trust. Obviously, Caleb Brewster would be the courier, and recruitment within his own friends back home in Setauket would be stellar. After all, the terrible tales of redcoat invasion into his town would build many a patriot.

This tent was too warm, or maybe he was. At least now he was in his own uniform. Ben exited the tent to begin walking around camp instead. As he walked, the attentive Captain Tallmadge decided to listen to the men around him. He liked to know about the state of morale whenever possible.

It was the usual chatter around the small fires. Some of the men were drunk and singing about tavern women, while others were asleep in their cheap, watered down ales. Others complained about the camp’s location, wondered about goings on in Philadelphia and traded rumours. But one conversation in particular caught Ben’s attention.

Rivington’s Gazette from New York was common in the camps, despite its Tory allegiance. One such army man was reading allowed an article from that very newspaper to a collection of intrigued listeners.

“…and it looks like it’s happened a third time, lads! ‘The mysterious unidentified culprit has struck again, leaving five British regulars dead inside a tavern on West Avenue in York City. All men were armed but there were no signs of muskets being fired, with a knife being the murder weapon of choice once again. King George has put out a large reward for the arrest of this murderer, who has now killed fifteen of His Majesty’s servants.’”

“This fellow’s doing the job for us,” one man remarked, “Maybe it’ll scare the lobsterbacks out of New York!”

“Don’t be daft, Martin,” another said, “Lots of people get knocked off in York City every day.”

“Yeah, but not like this,” said a third, “Sounds like the work of a mad man.”

Ben’s own thoughts were swimming with questions. It sounded like the work of Robert Rogers, who could easily kill off five armed men in a room alone. But Rogers served the king. It wouldn’t make sense for him to start murdering those on the same side, or would it? Still, there was something interesting about this, and Captain Tallmadge decided to store it in his mind for later.

For now, he was to walk around camp until his nerves settled. If ever. One thing Ben had adapted since entering the war was the knowledge that, no matter what he did, sleep would not come upon him when he needed it. And as long as Scott disagreed with him on this subject, Ben would remain sleepless.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Townsend is reunited with a beloved childhood friend during a rainy night in York City. Rebecca begins working at Townsend’s boarding house. Months later, a sketch of the Redcoat Killer circulates throughout the colonies, and Ben recognizes it to be Rebecca’s husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Rape/sexual assault mention, mental abuse

**A few days later, York City**

The sound of the rain falling outside made the tavern area of the New York boarding house feel cozier than usual. Robert Townsend, after ensuring there was an adequate amount of wood within the roaring fire, looked over his ledger. There were about three patrons who still hadn’t paid their bill, which frustrated him to no end, but one would never know it.

Townsend was a fellow who kept a consistent, effective poker face, and even those who knew him still had little idea what was going on inside his head. The quiet Quaker was pleased with this. Keeping to himself, wearing modest clothing and tending to his boarding house was all he needed. And within what was quickly becoming a nasty war, there was safety in the confines of its comfort.

Or so he thought.

The door slammed as a breathless figure stepped inside, demanding Robert’s attention by the noise. It was a woman, clad in a dark, wet cloak. She looked around, seeming paranoid. Robert took note, waiting patiently for either her father or husband to arrive.

No such person followed, even as she approached the desk. The woman, with her dark eyes and tan skin, appeared to be close to his age, with an old familiarity striking him. Her face was dirty, as though she’d been in a scuffle. Overall, something was not right.

“…are there any vacancies?” the woman asked.

“Is your husband meeting you?” Robert asked plainly.

“Haven’t got a husband,” she replied, looking around, as if afraid of something (or someone) suddenly appearing, “Please, if there’s no room here, I’ll be on my way.”

She placed her hands on the counter, and Robert studied her. He didn’t like trouble and took special care to avoid it in his establishment. People who brought it in were usually ushered out.

But he couldn’t ask a woman to leave, especially one who looked to be trying to escape something terrible.

Before he could ask another question, he noticed a scar on her hand. A jagged and ugly thing, that looked to be stretched from age. It was a scar he recognized. And in seconds, he knew who this woman was.

Robert decidedly to be uncharacteristically loud so as to dispel the curiosity of the patrons who were definitely whispering and staring, “Madame, let me show you your room. When your husband arrives shortly, I’ll see to it he is escorted there as well. I do hope the ship arrives in a timely manner.”

The woman, seeming to understand, nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

Robert nodded politely has he grasped the key and gestured towards the stairs. The young woman walked in front of him up the creaking wooden staircase, which he noted was done wearily, until they both reached the top. From there he unlocked the second room in the hall, allowing her to walk in first. He quietly closed the door behind them.

She threw her arms around her beloved friend, embracing him tightly. Robert uncharacteristically hugged her back just as warmly, unable to believe after all these years it was, decidedly, his dear friend Rebecca Hill. It had been a long time since she resided in Oyster Bay and left without a word, and now she stood before him, a visitor arriving in the night. It was all so strange.

“Robert, I’m so sorry I wasn’t more forward, and I must apologize for my appearance, or lack of letter. Samuel wanted me to send word that I was coming, but I feared it was too dangerous-”

“My father?” Robert frowned, “Amidst the millions of questions I already have, how did you come to see him? Were you back in Oyster Bay?” He paused, seeing her uneasiness. “…are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I don’t wish to bring you any difficulty,” Rebecca said, “Just allow me to stay tonight, and I’ll be on my way in the morning-”

“No,” Robert said, his worry starting to rise, “What happened to you? Where did you run off to? Your parents…they were so worried, and we searched for weeks-”

“They weren’t my parents.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“I have enough to pay for my room, and I’ll leave as soon as the morning comes,” Rebecca said, withdrawing a small pouch from the cloak, “And you can write to Samuel to tell him I’ve arrived safely, otherwise he’ll show up here, knowing him-”

Robert shook his head, “No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Rebecca frowned, “Robert…”

“We both know how fond my father was of you, and that you allowed him to entertain the idea of our courtship,” he said quietly, “Something I never thanked you for.”

Rebecca nodded, “It was the least I could do until you were able to leave home.”

“But you didn’t have to do it,” he continued, “So please, for the sake of that trust, tell me where you ran to, and how I can help you.”

—

Rebecca sat across from Robert at a table next to the roaring fire in the tavern area. The place was nearly empty now, save for an older man in the corner who had passed out from drinking. It was after all quite late now. The kindly Mr. Townsend had given her a meal, hoping to coax the words out of her. Though hesitant, it was working.

“You remember the day we met in Oyster Bay,” Rebecca began, “I was only just thirteen.”

“And I was nearly fourteen,” Robert said, “I remember.”

“Your father found us playing by the water and wound up having to bring me home. I’d escaped in the afternoon when I was supposed to be doing needlepoint with Jonathon Hill’s other two daughters. Found you and out there, trying quite pathetically to go fishing.”

Robert smiled faintly at the memory, “And you taught me how to do it properly. We stayed out there for hours…and if I recall you were quite good at telling stories, even if it was mixed with French. That was something I never understood about you. Never looked French.”

Rebecca laughed a little, “You, always so observant.”

“Father says it’ll be the death of me.”

“I hope not,” Rebecca said, “The strap I received for that behaviour that day made it impossible to sit down for a week.” She paused. “I hated that man and all his Tory friends.”

“I know. What was the name you made up for him?”

“The Pale Man,” she replied, “White as a sheet, no matter the weather.”

Robert was impatient, “I’ve been wondering for years what happened. So has my father. The Hills looked everywhere for the culprits that broke into their house and kidnapped you-”

“A kidnapping?” Rebecca was amused, “Is that what they told everyone?”

Robert stared at her.

“Jonathon Hill was not a good man,” she said quietly, “He and his children always treated me differently. I knew they only took me in for appearances. A man of his importance would look good and charitable, they said. But I knew I wasn’t welcome.”

She clenched and unclenched her fists.

“Robert, I spent the entirety of my time in Oyster Bay running away from that house. Lydia and Hannah, they used to lock me in the cellar whenever their father was away, where there were dead rats and foul stenches. Their father used to give me the strap for the most minor of offenses, and often on display for his daughters. All these things I could handle, usually by spending time with you and your father, who I can now admit I used to wish were my family.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, “I understand if what I am about to tell you, you don’t believe. No one would, and that is why I had to escape Oyster Bay for good that night.”

Robert leaned closer across the small table, reaching for Rebecca’s trembling hand. She gently placed it in his, knowing she was safe with him. Robert Townsend wouldn’t dream of hurting her.

“Shortly after I turned 18, the man’s tone changed. He stopped dictating the abuse. I could feel something wasn’t right, but I wasn’t sure at the time. I wondered if he’d decided I was finally one of his daughters at last. He started standing closer to me, looking down corset, sniffing my hair. And that night in the middle of the spring, it finally came to pass.”

Rebecca squeezed Robert’s hand, her heart pounding in her chest. Now he was starting to worry. If not a kidnapping, could it be…?

“I heard the footsteps in the hall just as I was about to fall asleep, for the past month. I knew it was him. The Pale Man had no reason to walk outside of my bedroom, but he did. It was preparation for something. So for a month, I would lay there, trembling, waiting.”

She paused.

“The night he finally crept into my room, I had placed a steak knife under my pillow. The old perverse man, he placed the candle on the table by my bed and pulled back the quilt, his hand outstretched towards my chest, but I was ready. I plunged the knife into his neck, but I hadn’t accounted for how quickly it would cause him to bleed, and it happened all over me and the room. He started to scream, awakening his daughters and slaves. And I knew I had to run… I took one of the horses and I disappeared. They didn’t catch me on account of the fact that the home was so isolated, but I knew I would still be considered a murderer if he didn’t survive. So I stayed away.”

Robert could only stare, a mixture of horror and disbelief on the gentle Quaker’s face. This was not the story he was expecting.

Rebecca stood up, walking towards the window, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have come.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she paced, rattling her ribcage. This was a mistake. Why on earth did she come to this place, and what did she think he would say? Robert did not deserve to carry her burdens.

But Mr. Townsend also rose.

“I believe it would be best if you stayed here until further notice.”

Rebecca turned, “What?”

“Well, I could use some help in this business, seeing as winter is well on its way,” Robert said a-matter-of-factly, “And my father would consider, despite my age, giving me the strap should I let you disappear from our lives again, especially under such circumstances.”

Rebecca found herself smiling, just a little, “Samuel would never raise a hand to anyone, and you know it.”

“True,” Robert nodded, “However, the offer still stands.”

Rebecca sighed as she found a flaw, “What would your boarders think of a woman here?”

“As I recall you handle yourself quite well around the wandering eyes of men, and I will be around to cause distraction in the form of bill payment,” Robert said, “But we could always tell people you’re my wife.”

It made sense. No one would question it. Except for one person in particular.

“Robert, it was one thing to tell your father we were courting when we were in our youth, but to tell him we’re married-”

“My father will be an obstacle we shall face when he comes to visit, which he does from time to time, so we will cross that bridge when it arrives,” Robert said plainly, “Now then. If you’re to be a convincing Quaker wife, we’ll have to get you some simpler clothes…”

Rebecca could feel happy tears in her eyes, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Easy. Don’t run off like that again.”

—

A sketch had been circulating throughout camp shortly after the mail arrived when Ben intercepted it. Always wanting to know about morale and the subjects of conversation in camp, Ben kept his eyes and ears open. Originating from New York, Ben realized it was a wanted ad for a criminal, complete with a drawing of the man. But not just any criminal.

“I’m just saying I think it’s strange,” Ben was saying as Caleb practiced, yet again, hurling axes at a tree, “I mean, they’ve got a look at the man’s face now.”

“Man’s face ain’t much when he’s hidin’ behind that cloth, Ben,” Caleb noted, which Ben admitted was a good point, “So we’re recruitin’ murderers now, are we that desperate?”

“While his identity is still unknown, all I am saying is it’s something we should consider. Someone who can eliminate British officers- officers with loaded weapons, might I add- with just a small knife, that’s something, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Redcoat Killer sounds like a real friendly fella,” Caleb yanked the axe out of the tree bark it was wedged into, “If he wanted to be part of our ranks, he’d had joined up already. Not run around York City knockin’ the guts outta any old lobsterback officer he came across.”

“Well, the methods aren’t exactly keen…”

“Ben. You need to keep your eyes on the right path. We’ve still got Abe, and Anna’s hangin’ petticoats.”

“Yes, but it isn’t enough,” Ben sighed, looking at the drawing once again, “And we need a man in New York, Washington’s been saying it, and I think…”

Ben trailed off. There was something about the sketch that struck him all of a sudden, as if he hadn’t really been looking at it before, and perhaps he hadn’t. Now that he was seeing it again, without the added commentary of the irritated soldiers he pulled it from, Ben realized he’d seen this man before.

“Caleb,” Ben said slowly, “I believe we might have found our man in New York.” He paused. “If he’s still there.”

Brewster exhaled, “Sometimes I wonder if you run things by me just to hear yourself talk, lad.”


	3. Intelligence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca dreams of her past, and attends Guy Fawkes Day to procure valuable information. The Redcoat Killer strikes again. Robert is frustrated by his ‘wife’s’ behaviour. Ben reflects on what has happened with Simcoe and suffers from recurring nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Blood mention, murder

_“Happy Birthday, my little love!”_

_The eight-year-old Rebecca (or, they all assumed she was eight) giggled as her father spun her around in his arms. Of course, he wasn’t really her father- that role belonged to a man she didn’t remember- but in her eyes, he was everything a father should be. Tall, strong and in her opinion, the smartest man in the world, Charles Morgan was her beloved Papa._

_“Now, d’you know what a good girl like you gets on her birthday?” Charles asked, his rugged, greying beard doing little to hide the sparkle in his blue eyes. Having never got the chance to have children of his own, the leader of the group of privateers welcomed her into the family of misfits the moment he found her crying alone in the woods near the French Jesuit village two years earlier. For that, Rebecca would always be thankful._

_But on this day, she wasn’t thinking about the day she became a privateer’s daughter. As he carried her from her small bed in the woods, her heart began to pound with excitement. Papa always showered her with children’s gifts after good raids, such as small toys and clothes, but her favourite things of all were books, despite the fact that most had parts she didn’t quite understand yet. Rebecca knew Papa had gotten her one, not because he’d given it away, but because she saw Long Billy putting one away in one of the secret compartments in his jacket._

_Papa set her on his lap and withdrew the gift from his jacket, eliciting a shriek of excitement from the dark-haired child as he placed it in her hands. She hugged him as tightly as she could manage, making the older man laugh._

_“Now, this came all the way from London,” Papa explained, “And I’m told it’s the very first book ever made just for children.”_

_Rebecca’s eyes widened as she traced the spine, “What is it called?”_

_Charles held it up before them, “A Little Pretty Pocket-Book, intended for the Amusement of Little Master Tommy and Pretty Miss Polly with Two Letters from Jack the Giant Killer.”_

_“Jack the Giant Killer…” Rebecca echoed, “A man that can kill a great big giant?”_

_“Well, I s’pose Jack’s just as fierce as you, my sweet girl!” Papa said, “You could kill a giant in an instant.”_

_“I don’t know about that, Papa,” Rebecca said, “I’m still not good at shootin.’“_

_“Nah, but you climb into those spaces I can’t reach, and open doors I shan’t ever be able to without your help,” Papa insisted, “You’re more privateer than any of us, my little love.”_

_“I hope I can be just like you when I grow up, Papa.”_

_“My dear, I suspect you’ll be killing giants before any of us even know they’re here.”_

**November 5, 1776**  
Rebecca awoke with a start. The sound of someone raising their voice downstairs startled her, and she realized she should have been up at least an hour ago. Quickly getting out of bed and getting dressed, she fumbled down the stairs, hoping Robert wouldn’t notice.

But this was Robert Townsend we’re talking about, here.

As a man seemed to storm out of the boarding house as Robert remained completely calm, he raised his eyebrows at his would-be wife, “Were you having nightmares again?”

“Nightmares?” Rebecca frowned, “I don’t have nightmares.”

“Certainly, you do. You were calling out the other night.”

She shrugged, “Maybe the Pale Man’s haunting me.”

“Pray, don’t bring that sort of talk here,” Robert said, placing a newly-paid bill inside the ledger, “Now, it appears most of our patrons will be attending the ceremonies tonight.”

“Ceremonies?”

“Yes. Guy Fawkes Day is upon us,” Robert said, sounding utterly bored, “My father tells me I ought to attend whatever’s going on in the city tonight, but I’ve never seen the point of it all. The man’s gunpowder plot was a farce from the start and I see no reason to remember it.”

“When is Samuel coming to visit?” Rebecca asked him, “You invited him for Thanksgiving, didn’t you?”

Robert sighed, “Rebecca. Please stop reading my mail.”

“You told me to keep an eye on things.”

“And that doesn’t mean spying on me.”

“I’m supposed to be your wife, remember? Don’t husbands and wives tell each other everything?”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“I read about it in a novel once.”

“Do you get all your ideas from books?”

“No, but I remember your father saying the fact that I was well-read was impressive,” she said with a smile, “Now if you’re not going out to the festivities, would it be fair if I did?”

Robert blinked at her, “You. A woman. Alone in the city.”

“I’m not just any woman, Robert,” Rebecca said firmly, “I can easily maneuver my way around without running into trouble. Such is the reason I could enter York City unaccompanied.”

“And you still won’t tell me how you did that.”

“Nope. Not a word will leave my lips on the subject.”

Robert sighed, “Why do I feel like if I say no, you’re still going to go out anyway, and that your asking for my permission is more a formality than anything?”

“You would be correct in that assumption.”

“…just be careful, and please, do not tell my father about this at Thanksgiving.”

Rebecca promised, and kissed Robert on the cheek before going to start her chores. If she’d stayed a few seconds longer, she would have seen the deep red blush on the shy Quaker’s face. Onlookers would never believe either of them were married, let alone to the other.

—

York City came alive at night, at least by comparison to its gentle daytime activities. People lined the streets, some in decorative Guy Fawkes masks, others carrying dummies of the cursed man from long ago. Food vendors and British soldiers were everywhere. It was a sea of celebration, and a perfect place for a woman to hide.

Rebecca had overheard someone at the boarding house a week earlier talking of a General Charles Lee. This intrigued her. Pouring the man an ale, she found out through small talk (and ample display of her chest, which would have irritated Robert had he not been upstairs showing a boarder to their room) that Lee was a British officer that had turned to the Americans.

“But,” the man, an unimportant shoemaker from Philadelphia who was in the city to visit his ailing mother, said with a whisper, “Everyone knows he’s a defector. He’ll be looking to see Major Andre sooner rather than later.”

Who was Major Andre, Rebecca asked the man. The fellow laughed, “Andre’s a redcoat officer that drives the York City ladies wild, that’s all I know. Wears a peculiar long braid, they say.”

During a trip to the market later in the week, Rebecca saw Major Andre, and she recognized exactly what the man meant. The single braid was not the only identifier. Tall, striking and flirtatious with a well-dressed woman as he walked down the street to his lodging, the Major did not hide himself. Not that he needed to, with York City under British occupation. Still, why would the Continental Army’s Charles Lee want to see him?

More importantly, would Charles Lee offer enough information to bring to Washington?

As she wandered the street that evening, Rebecca for some reason remembered the young Dragoon she had helped weeks before. What was his name…Ben? Yes, it was Ben. She thought harder. Oh, it was Ben Tallmadge. A good, strong name, she thought. It suited the well-built form he had (she would know, having to strip his upper body of the Rangers uniform), although his eyes had a gentleness to them that she didn’t see in most men. Rebecca wondered if he was married, or at least engaged…

She wrinkled her nose. Why think of Captain Tallmadge now? Surely he wasn’t a key player in Washington’s army, but finding him could be useful. After all, arriving at the rebel camp as both a woman and alone with questionable information already put two strikes against her. But Tallmadge could validate her.

A tavern she knew was often frequented by British officers came up on the right. Rebecca decided to go inside, hoping it might procure something. At least one of the drunken fools in there would know about Andre or Lee, she hoped. Now, it was time to use her female charms. 

The usual hungry, inebriated stares greeted her. Rebecca took care to allow her hair to flow in gentle spirals and that her dress remained as low as possible. Putting her assets on display was key in finding potential information, especially from men who could spill details for a simple glance at her up close.

A few officers already had women on their laps, but one in the corner who was particularly loud and irritating did not. Rebecca settled on him, making her way across the room without calling too much attention to herself. It did not take long for the officer to notice her, and immediately take interest.

To be fair, any pretty young lady would garner attention at this point in alcohol consumption.

Within seconds, Rebecca had slid onto his lap, “I’ve never met a British officer before, and you are the most handsome one I’ve ever seen.”

The officer smiled at her, “You are a very lucky girl on this night, then.”

“Tell me, what is your rank and name? I think it is one I should never forget.”

“Madame, I am Major Richard Lewis,” he said, kissing her hand, “And you?”

“You can call me Lorelei,” Rebecca replied, tracing her finger along the buttons on his coat, “Or whatever suits you best.”

“Lorelei…the siren that leads men to the rocks,” Major Lewis slurred, “Your family must have quite the sense of humour.”

“Mmm, let’s not talk about that, handsome Major,” Rebecca continued, “Oh! You have the same rank as another officer, one my friend wanted to introduce me to…Andrew, Arnett…?”

“Andre,” Major Lewis responded, “‘Ol Major Andre, he’s a fortunate fellow these days.”

“Oh?” Rebecca leaned closer to him, “I bet he’s quite boring compared to you.”

Major Lewis laughed, “My dear Lorelei…that man…he’s in the fool’s game.”

“Fool’s game?”

“Intelligence, they call it,” Major Lewis said, his hands now beginning to wander, “So silly, you know… spying is not for gentlemen.”

“And you are a gentleman, indeed,” Rebecca said seductively, “What could Andre possible be doing? Aren’t the Americans finished?”

Major Lewis chucked, “Indeed! Washington’ll be hanged before 1777, I reckon…”

The man was getting quite handsy now. Rebecca figured it was time to move the party elsewhere if she wanted to get more information. Thankfully, this particular tavern had rooms upstairs for just that sort of thing.

Closing the door to the newly rented room, Rebecca pressed herself against the incredibly drunk officer, “Tell me, Major…do you like games?”

“I do love a game…”

“Then let us play,” Rebecca said, leading him to the bed, “I require your ribbon, sir.”

“My…my ribbon?”

“We’re to play a very special game,” Rebecca said, removing the smart, dark blue ribbon from his hair and securing it around his head, “No peaking! Now then…Major Lewis, if you were that silly Major Andre-”

“Come on now, why must we speak of that petty man!”

His impatience was understandable. Rebecca placed her hand on his groin.

“Tantalize me, dear Major, with the last nail in the coffin for those filthy rebels, to whom I owe the deaths of my beloved friends and family,” she said, her hand traveling further south, “How would you do it, without the aid of battle?”

“Lee…” the officer said, starting to pant excitedly like a dog, “It’ll be done by Lee…”

“Charles Lee?” Rebecca asked, “But Charles Lee is on their side, the filth.”

“Andre’s going to make sure he’s with us now, with the King,” the man said, trying to reach for her hand but to no avail, “He’ll betray them, and Washington…will find a noose waiting for him…just like those rebels deserve…”

That was it. General Charles Lee, a suspected British sympathizer due to his prior British payroll, truly never meant to defer. Lee would betray the United States.

And now, Rebecca could tell them.

“Thank you, sir, for your most useful aid.” She said, withdrawing the knife from within her sock.

“My what-”

In a swift movement, Rebecca slit his throat. Exiting the room into the crowd of drunken officers, women and British alike, she made her way out of the tavern and all the way back to the boarding house. She noted that this time, not a drop of blood stained her dress or skin. 

The Redcoat Killer was getting better at her job.

—

**The next morning**

Upstairs in the boarding house, Robert Townsend was not taking the news of Rebecca’s plan to leave the boarding house very well. The man was quite upset. Actually, he was furious, or as furious as the quiet Quaker could get.

“We are about to reach a peak time and I need you to remain here!”

“And I told you, I will be back, as quickly as I can.”

“From where, exactly?” Robert demanded.

“You do not need to know.”

“Oh, but I do,” Robert said, “Because you and I are to see my father for Thanksgiving.”

Rebecca sighed, “Robert…”

“We made this entire agreement based on the fact that you and I-”

“I know, and I will be back in time to see Samuel, or perhaps meet you at his home in Oyster Bay.”

“So we are to arrive separately? That will look suspicious and you know it!”

“My being in Oyster Bay period will look suspicious, Robert,” Rebecca said with a sigh, “But please understand that I must go, today. And that I will be there for Thanksgiving dinner as you need me to. If I am not back in time to ride there with you, I will send a letter.”

Robert was silent for a moment.

“Whatever it is that you are doing, I pray you are not putting yourself in danger,” he said quietly, “And know that if you are in some kind of trouble, that it will always reflect on me.”

Rebecca nodded, “I promise, Robert. None of this will be traced back to you.”

Robert wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he knew that didn’t matter. Rebecca was a free spirit, and would come and go as she pleased. So long as he still had his closest friend and confidant in the end, all would be well with the world.

Still, the young Quaker didn’t expect that the trouble he feared his “wife” was chasing would come to the very boarding house without her help.

—

Much later and in far away New Jersey, Benjamin Tallmadge couldn’t sleep. He was having nightmares again, and for good reason: the fiasco that was the capture and torment of Captain John Graves Simcoe had happened only hours ago. The look on General Scott’s face would haunt him, and so too would the humiliation. Worse, Ben knew that Abe and Anna would be furious with him for not executing the man.

The nightmares weren’t always the same, but there was a pattern. Sometimes he was drowning in a body of water he didn’t recognize. Other times he was being hanged before a triumphant, laughing group of British officers. No matter what he dream, Ben always struggled to breathe.

And after waking up, his heart would race with panic and confusion. This was new. Ben was certain he was going mad, but he couldn’t tell anyone. The last thing he needed was to be seen as unstable, especially now.

Forcing himself to lay back on his cot, Ben tried to think of something else to put his heart rate back to normal. It didn’t help that the cot wasn’t quite comfortable and was making his back ache, but even that pain wasn’t enough of a distraction.

His anxious mind wandered the that day in the woods as he ran for his life. Fearing Robert Rogers was right behind him, Ben remembered what happened after he blacked out. The calmness of awakening and hearing a soft, friendly voice. A voice that he now realized was a welcoming one.

Ben was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life, although growing up in a small town and going to Yale (where there were only men) didn’t give him much to draw from. Perhaps in different circumstances, the best case scenario being no war at all and she being unmarried, he would have tried to get to know her. 

Getting to know a woman to Ben was different than it was to Caleb. If it had been Caleb in that situation, he easily would have talked Rebecca into a quick romp before her husband got back. But Ben, being a virgin and also painfully shy around ladies, would likely have asked her a million questions. Where she was from, if she liked to read, among some of them. 

Not that he didn’t want to sleep with her. The reaction Ben had when he thought of her later was not a chaste one. He wondered how she looked without the plain, dirty dress she was wearing, and if the rest of her body was as soft and warm as her hands. Mind wandering further, Ben dreamed of what it would feel like to kiss her.

But she was the wife of someone else, and that someone was a murderer. Albeit, he killed the enemy. Gaining him would mean access to a weapon and possible intelligence if he were properly trained. Ben wondered if Rebecca’s husband would join them, and she in turn would be a camp follower. If she did, Ben would likely have a chance to talk to her more.

He groaned. What are you thinking, Captain Tallmadge? This woman was out of bounds, and he knew that Scott would never approve bringing the Redcoat Killer in as part of the spy ring he was building. Rather, Ben was building it. Scott thought all of Ben’s ideas were juvenile and uneducated. The Redcoat Killer would only prove that Scott was right, and Ben was a fool.

Now his head was hurting. It was late, or it seemed to be, and for the journey to Fort Lee tomorrow, Ben would need to be alert. Prisoner transport was not an honourable task, but it was necessary, and the British would soon be on their tails if they weren’t careful. The captain should be resting by now.

Closing his eyes, Ben chose to think of Rebecca as he tried to drift off. The curve of her body, or at least what he saw of it, was tempting. He imagined her removing her dress just for him, and pressing her mouth to his. Ben dreamed of touching her raven hair, long and spiralling around his fingers.

The exhausted, anxious young captain fell asleep to the thought of holding her in his arms, a feeling that would tear him away from the fears that plagued him if only for one night.


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca rides for New Jersey as she dreams yet again of her childhood. Despite successfully sending Abe’s report to Washington, Ben struggles to grapple with the news of his father’s church being taken over. Later, intelligence they need arrives in an unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going with the assumption that the Continental flying camp is in New Jersey and not New York state at this point. Also, Caleb does not know that Rebecca is the Redcoat Killer, he just thinks she’s violent because she’s an Indian.
> 
> Content warning: Murder, mild racism (era-appropriate opinions)

_“Time to sleep, mon étoile,” Maman said, pulling back the quilt and allowing the three-year-old girl to climb in, although she did this with difficulty, “Oh, poor little thing, you must be so scared…”_

_She was scared, and probably would be for some time. Earlier that week, Jesuit priest Jean Tremblant had discovered this small child, naked and covered in soot and minor burns, crying near the outskirts of the town. How she had managed to wander so far was beyond him, but Monsieur Tremblant recognized someone in need when he saw them. Knowing the war that was occurring, he thought it best to scoop up the child and take her to safety as soon as possible._

_His wife, Adele, had always longed for children but could not produce any. A Jesuit couple in their small French settlement in New York, they focused on helping others as often as they could. When Jean walked in the door of their modest home carrying Rebecca, Adele was thrilled._

_After giving her a bath and doing her best to soothe her, Adele realized that the girl did not speak any English. She spoke instead with a strange tongue that was not familiar to anyone, and openly wept for hours. It was easy to confirm, from her dark skin and jet black hair, that she came from one of the nearby native tribes that were currently at war with the British and French. Adele lamented over the thought of this tiny orphan running through the forests looking for safety._

_At this time in her life, her name was not Rebecca. Instead, Adele managed to communicate that they both had names- Jean was “Papa” and she was “Maman”- and that she could choose her name. Eventually, somehow, they settled on “Mathilde.” Adele told her it had been her own “Maman”’s name._

_That night, Maman sang a lullaby from her grandmother’s homeland of France. A song that she could recall even as an adult. Closing her eyes, the little girl listened to the soft, sweet song:_

_Dodo, l’enfant do,  
L’enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l’enfant do  
L’enfant dormira bientôt._

_Une poule blanche  
Est là dans la grange.  
Qui va faire un petit coco  
Pour l’enfant qui va fair’ dodo._

_Dodo, l’enfant do,  
L’enfant dormira bien vite  
Dodo, l’enfant do  
L’enfant dormira bientôt._

_Tout le monde est sage  
Dans le voisinage  
Il est l’heure d’aller dormir  
Le sommeil va bientôt venir._

_Soon, Mathilde forgot about the tribe she came from. Jean taught her English, believing it would be important to know in addition to the French they spoke at home. Other native children who were being raised by French families ran free in the village, with which she happily played with. In time, Mathilde became very attached to her new family._

_It was a shame the smallpox arrived three years later, and took both Jean and Maman away._

Rebecca was growing tired of her dreams. It seemed whenever she closed her eyes she traveled back to the time of her childhood, be it when she was the daughter of the French couple or the daughter of the Privateer. Neither ended with happy memories.

A conversation with a Tory family that she managed to ride with on the way to New Jersey helped solidify the location of the rebel army. This of course, was easily extracted once she discussed her (false) excitement over the possibility of Washington’s defeat. Rebecca was good at concealing herself, and pinned a Loyalist badge to her cloak as she travelled, playing the distraught widow on her way home to her parents in Trenton.

“I should like to avoid Washington’s men as easily as possible,” she told the family, “And seeing as I’ve lost everything, I cannot even afford myself an escort.”

She easily procured the information of the exact placement of the camp. This was the closest rebel army encampment and would allow her to return to York City just in time to leave with Robert for Oyster Bay. At least, that was the plan.

But plans change accordingly.

—

Pleased with having sent forward their intelligence to Washington (against Scott’s wishes, of course), Ben and Caleb chose to discuss the state of Setauket as they sat around the fire. After all, only Caleb had been fortunate to visit, albeit most of the time was spent in Anna Strong’s barn and escaping by boat. But it did not come with good news.

Obviously, Ben knew that the citizens were a mix of Whigs and Tories. But he didn’t know what had become of the small white church. The very one his father, Reverend Nathanial Tallmadge, had preached at since before he was born. Caleb felt obliged to tell him of what Major Hewlett had done with it.

It put a damper on the otherwise good mood, but it was necessary. Caleb believed in telling Ben everything, not just because he was his superior, but because Captain Tallmadge was his most trusted friend.

“…you’re certain it’s true?”

“Ben, I swear to ya, Annie told me all about it, and that nobody’s said a word against it save for Abe and us,” Caleb said. He paused, seeing his friend’s gaze shift. “I’m sorry.”

The knowledge of redcoats taking over Setauket was painful enough, but the thought of his father’s beloved church, where young Ben had heard many a sermon growing up, was almost too much to bear. He felt powerless, despite the uniform he proudly wore, as he imagined his lonely father back home, forced to watch as horses trudged among the floors he once kept pristinely clean himself.

Ben’s father did not want him to join the army. Not because he worried he would be killed (although that was certainly up there on the list of concerns), but because he believed his son’s skills would be better served elsewhere. Nathanial thought the world of Benjamin, who had shown an interest in books and education from a young age, and did not wish for his second son to do the same as his eldest. With Samuel already imprisoned as a Continental soldier and his wife having passed a decade earlier, this would render him truly alone.

But Ben was a free spirit, and a rebellious one at that. Nathanial often said it came from his mother. Despite his Yale education, which was well-earned, Ben could not turn away from Washington’s cause. To be put simply, the would-be schoolmaster followed his heart.

And his heart suffered from it. Every now and then when they received bad news (which unfortunately was often at this stage), Ben would feel chest pains and an intense tightening whenever he took a breath. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Surely, talking to one of the medical staff might cause more concern, and that was the last thing Ben needed right now, when he was expected to be sharp at all times. But it didn’t make the sleepless nights any easier.

Before Ben could reply to Caleb regarding the situation with the church, a Continental soldier approached them both. 

“Captain Tallmadge, sir, a civilian has entered camp claiming to have important information.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows, “A civilian all the way out here? What’s he want?”

“I’ll alert General Scott-” Ben began.

“Actually, she asked for you, by name, sir.” The soldier replied.

Ben and Caleb looked at each other in confusion.

“She?” Ben frowned.

“It can’t be Annie,” Caleb said as they started to follow the soldier to the holding cell, “She’s still in Setauket. And since when do you know any women, Benny Boy?”

The holding cell, which was essentially just an old, decrepit shed, was at the edge of camp. Pulling back the creaking door, Ben stepped inside and was amazed at the person he saw seated on the dirt floor of the old structure.

“Rebecca?” 

Quickly, she stood, trying to dust off her grey wool dress, “Captain Tallmadge.”

“You two know each other?” Caleb asked, his suspicions rising. It seemed completely impossible to him that, 1. Ben could know such an exotic beauty, and 2. That he hadn’t told Caleb about this.

“Only briefly,” Ben said, unable to believe the sight before him, for despite the tiredness of her face, she still looked as radiant as that day in the woods, “I didn’t think it merited a report…”

“Captain Tallmadge was running from the Queen’s Rangers when he stumbled into my small camp,” Rebecca explained, “The poor fellow was wounded and I stitched him up. I was on my way to York City.”

“Uh huh,” Caleb altered between looking at her and looking at Ben, “Strange, ya think he’d mention ya.”

“Lieutenant Brewster,” Ben cleared his throat, “If you don’t mind, I should interrogate Mrs…?”

“Morgan.” Rebecca replied.

“Right. I should interrogate Mrs. Morgan alone.”

Caleb nodded, “Alright, alright…” The bearded man took one last glance at her before he left the shed, ensuring the door was shut tightly behind him.

By the light of the small candle, Ben was taken with the army’s newest guest. Her skin seemed to glow in the orange hue, her dark hair contrasting with the pale grey of her gown. The deep, dark eyes that had looked upon him before were pulling him in even now. But Captain Tallmadge had to put his mind right, for she had just entered their camp as essentially a stranger, and this was rarely awarded with good news.

“This uniform suits you much better, Captain.” Rebecca said, and felt her cheeks flush scarlet almost immediately as the words left her lips. Why on earth had she said that? Should she have just embarrassed herself further by telling him that the royal blue embraced the azure shade of his eyes? Well, it did, but that was beside the point.

Now in full interrogation mode, Ben simply frowned at her. Rebecca knew that despite their brief meeting before, that he did not trust her, and why should he? She’d arrived much later than anticipated, and coming to their camp at night looked suspicious. Not to mention she omitted an important fact that had struck him as quite odd.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t mention to my associate that it was in fact your husband that I met in the woods first?” Ben asked.

Rebecca seemed taken aback, “Was that important?”

“Well, I believe so,” Ben said, approaching her from a safe distance, “Especially given his reputation as a murderer.”

The expression on her face changed. Ben thought he saw a brief flash of fear before she settled into comfort once again. He also thought he noticed her shrug. Perhaps she was struggling to find a poker face amidst the sudden tension.

“While I am grateful for your kindness shown a few weeks ago, Mrs. Morgan, I really must stress how strange this looks to appear at our camp just as night has fallen,” Ben continued.

“I understand, Captain, but I came as quickly as I could.”

“And is there a reason you came alone?” Ben asked her, “Because, as I said, the man you are married to appears to still be roaming York City, executing British officers as he sees fit.” He rested a hand on his sword, which Rebecca suspected was an attempt to intimidate her. “Vigilante justice is not something Washington, or myself, are interested in.”

“Rivington’s Gazette is full of lies, Captain Tallmadge,” Rebecca said firmly.

“I don’t think it’s the Gazette that’s full of lies, Mrs. Morgan.”

Ben was overpowering her, something she hadn’t expected. But she was not going to give up just yet. He would accept her help, and that was final.

“I overheard something from a British officer who knows a Major John Andre,” Rebecca said, seeing Ben’s expression change at the mention of the name, “Now, I’m not sure who he is, but the officer I spoke with told me-”

“If you are a Patriot, loyal to our cause, why would a British officer give you any information?” Ben asked her. It was a fair question.

Rebecca could feel her shame, “…because I pretended to be a prostitute, and he was terribly drunk on Guy Fawkes night.”

“Am I to believe you were purposefully seeking out this information?” 

“Captain Tallmadge. I was at a boarding house when I overheard talks of this Major Andre fellow. I could not procure enough information without looking conspicuous. So I chose November 5th, when I knew the officers would be inebriated, to find a source. They always run about with working women, so I simply posed as one and found an officer.”

“Which officer was it?”

“I believe he said his name was Major Lewis, sir,” Rebecca continued, “When I managed to get him to talk, her told me about a Charles Lee, in your army, who was planning to meet Major Andre.”

“Charles Lee?” Ben was shocked at this outrageous accusation, “As in General Charles Lee, after whom Fort Lee is named? You’re telling me that he plans to betray Washington?”

“Captain, I am only telling you what this officer-”

“Mrs. Morgan,” Ben said firmly, “You must understand the implications of such an accusation-”

“I do, and that is why I came all the way here from York City,” Rebecca told him, “I have spent weeks trying to find something, anything, to give you.”

Ben paced for a moment before he turned to face her again.

“Then I need to know where you found out that I was an intelligence officer for the Continental army,” he said, a flash of anger in his voice, “Were you sent by Major Andre, then? Were you told to conjure up this story, and appear tonight, to try and force what remains of this army to fall apart from within? Using a woman to do so, to try and sway me, makes the utmost sense, it seems to me that is a much more believable plan!”

Rebecca could feel her heartbeat rising, but she tried her hardest to maintain her cool, “Captain Tallmadge, I did not know anything but your name, I swear it, and I truly believe that Robert Rogers-”

Ben’s eyes flashed, “How in the hell do you know the name Robert Rogers?!”

“Because, you unwitting fool, the bastard killed my parents!”

Rebecca could not longer remain calm and had shouted at Captain Tallmadge, in turn collapsing onto the dirt floor in a heap as angry tears escaped. Ben, feeling guilty at once for raising his voice at her, took the opportunity to exit the cell and go to find Caleb. He desperately needed advice with this one.

Thankfully, Caleb was about three feet away, patiently waiting as he leaned against a tree.

“You do know that’s an Indian you’ve got in there, right?” Caleb asked him.

“What?” Ben said, still a little dazed from the encounter.

“That woman, she’s an Indian,” Caleb said, “She’s not dressed like one, but she is. Could tell from a mile away.” Ben knew that Caleb had encountered Indians on more than one occasion in his line of work, both friend and foe.

Ben frowned, “That would explain how she knew who Robert Rogers was…”

“Robert Rogers?” Caleb replied, “She was talkin’ about Rogers?”

“Yes, she…she said he killed her parents,” Ben said, “But I don’t know how that would be possible.”

“Ben, are ya daft?” Caleb said, as though it were obvious, “That bastard ran with the Iroquois during the French and Indian War a couple years back. They massacred loads of Indian villages. That woman, she’s probably one of the few that made it out alive. Which by my account is quite impressive, because those arseholes didn’t leave survivors.”

Ben suddenly felt very guilty, “And she integrated into our society?”

“Well, I remember hearin’ some of those religious Frenchies up north adopted a few,” Caleb said, “But I can’t be certain. If anybody’s got a bone to pick with Rogers, it’s us, and the Indians he killed.”

“But I saw one with him, when I escaped,” Ben said, “Rogers keeps an Indian with him at all times.”

“Ben, for somebody with a Yale education…”

Benjamin grew tired of this, “Then enlighten me Caleb!”

“There’s more than one tribe out there, ya’ve got the Iroquois, the Huron, the Abenaki, I think…”

“And?”

“And, I’m sayin’, Rogers has enemies everywhere. If she says he killed her folks, he probably did. And that’s the only thing I’m likely to believe from a savage dressed in sheep’s clothing who comes from nowhere in the middle ‘o the night.” Caleb concluded. “What else has she told ya?”

Ben shifted uncomfortably, “Maybe it’s best if you come back with me for this one.” He paused. “And maintain politeness, please.”

Moments later, Ben returned to the holding cell with Caleb. He rarely had Caleb present for interrogations, but truth be told he needed him for this one. Caleb seemed to know more about Rebecca than he did, was was already weird enough on its own.

“This is Lieutenant Brewster,” Ben said, shutting the door behind them, “He will remain here for the remainder of-”

“Are you a privateer?” Rebecca asked. She seemed to have recovered somewhat from her outburst.

Ben and Caleb exchanged confused glances.

“No, but I do dabble with the London Trade from time to time.” Caleb answered, although he wasn’t sure why he did.

“My father was on the London Trade.” Rebecca said quietly. Now, the information clashed, and Benjamin became even more frustrated.

Ben gaped at her, “Madame, I cannot stress the importance of telling us the truth, here, if you want us to forward this information.”

“Yeah. So are ya married, are yer parents actually dead, and what the hell is yer real name, ya savage?” Caleb asked, albeit much ruder than Ben would have preferred.

Rebecca glared at him, “’Savage.’ That’s typical of you, isn’t it?”

“I apologize on his behalf,” Ben said, shooting a warning look at Caleb, “But please, answer the question.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, “The Queen’s Rangers burned my village when I was a child, so my birth parents are in fact, dead. This was during the French and Indian War, which your Commander-in-Chief will remember well.” She paused to allow them to soak up the information. “And no, I am not actually married. I said that so it wouldn’t look strange for me to travel alone, which I do regularly.“

Ben remained silent as the slow realization came to him as to who the man he’d seen before he met Rebecca that terrifying day in the woods actually was. The true identity of the Redcoat Killer. This went unnoticed by Caleb, who just wanted to continue asking questions.

“So why’d ya say yer old man was a privateer? I thought the French took in yer kind during the war?”

“Yes, for a time I lived with a French couple after the village was destroyed,” Rebecca admitted, “But after they died from smallpox, I was adopted by a privateer. He had no children of his own and I was useful for unlocking doors and crawling into small spaces…”

“Ahhhh,” Caleb said, “Now, can ye actually confirm the name of this ‘privateer’ pap o’ yours?”

“Captain Charles Morgan. Which is why I said my last name was Morgan.” Rebecca said. She realized lies would go nowhere with these two, and if she wanted to serve the Patriot cause (and eradicate her enemies), she had to tell the truth. 

“Charlie Morgan, I’ll be damned,” Caleb shook his head.

“Did you know him?” Ben asked.

“No, but I heard tell of what happened to the poor fella…”

“Are you going to take my information about General Lee seriously or not?” Rebecca asked them, “Because if not, I will find another Continental camp to go to. And I’ll keep going until one of you takes me seriously.”

“General Lee?” Caleb frowned, “What’s she on about?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Brewster, I will close the interrogation from here,” Ben said, and Caleb seemed to understand, happy to go track down some ale on the other side of the door, “Rebecca. I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

She nodded.

“…are you the one killing British officers in York City at random, and are you here to offer your services to Washington?”

“Sir, you’re talking about two different people…”

“Indeed, and I believe you are one and the same. Tell me if I am wrong.”

Rebecca was silent. She had been so careful up until this point, and had clearly underestimated Ben Tallmadge. She reached for her knife, but elected not to pull it out. This was not a situation she could fight her way out of.

“…it was never intended to be at random,” she said quietly, “I started because I was looking for one in particular. And things got out of hand.”

“But you have the ability to defend yourself, as a man could?”

Rebecca nodded, “I trained with my father, the privateer. I can load a pistol faster than anyone. I can throw an axe, attack with a knife or sword.”

“I know you can.”

Rebecca looked at him with confusion.

“And I also know that if you wanted, you could kill me right now, but you won’t,” Ben said slowly, “You came all this way because you want to offer your services, but I’m afraid I can’t accept them.”

Rebecca had been in this position before, “Because I am a woman.”

“Yes, and because of your…talents, I suppose I will call them,” Ben said, “Rebecca. I am sorry for the losses that Rogers and men like him have caused you. I will allow you an escort outside of our lines so you may return to York City.”

“Will you report me for my crimes?”

“No,” Ben said, “But I must ask you not contact me, or anyone in this army ever again. There are ways to support the cause outside of this camp.”

Rebecca felt her heart sink. She had failed, then. Ben Tallmadge knew her identity, and could use it against her if she protested. Worse, it could get back to Robert or Samuel Townsend. She saw no choice but to admit defeat.

“Thank you, Captain Tallmadge,” she said with a heavy sigh, “And may I make a small request?”

“Certainly.”

“This cell is absolutely freezing. I would appreciate even a small bit of cloth for the night.”

“I will arrange it so. Thank you, Miss…?”

“Starling,” Rebecca replied, “My name is Rebecca Starling. A name I chose myself.”

Ben thought it was a lovely name, but he swallowed that comment. He gave her a polite nod before exiting the cell. As he walked back to his quarters, the sad realization that using the Redcoat Killer to help him spy within York City was no longer a possibility, as espionage was a man’s game. Though it was quite impressive that she was able to do all those things herself, Ben thought as he instructed a soldier to deliver a blanket to her, it could not bode well for the army.

—

The next morning, an escort took Rebecca to the outskirts of the lines. Ben finished a cup of coffee as he put the finishing touches on his report from his interrogation with Rebecca. It was boring, short and essentially a lie about how a woman with a different name had overheard a plot to assassinate Washington. Unfortunately, it was similar to one of many that came through. At least it would go unnoticed.

As he put the quill away, something occurred to Ben. Rebecca was living in York City, with access to British soldiers. She easily could have used her looks, which tantalized him still, to garner information. So he believed the tale of her seducing a British officer for information. Yes, she was a woman, but perhaps passing it on to Abe somehow was a possibility.

Scratch that, it wasn’t going to happen. Abe would never go for it. Only people he knew could work with Woodhull. Ben shook his head.

Then, for some reason, he remembered the conversation with Scott when he returned to camp after Rebecca had rescued him. Ben’s insistence that the British knew where the Dragoons would be. That he still firmly believed. The only way they could possibly have known, and told the Rangers, was if someone from within Washington’s own camp had told them. 

But everyone in command were Patriots. Ben knew this to be true. Hamilton was for sure, Scott, though irritating, would die before wearing a red coat. As he went over the names, Ben felt his blood run cold.

There was only one leader that had once been a loyal British subject, tendered under the British army, and recently, it was rumoured that he still remained under that post though he denied it profusely. Only one person who Major Andre could easily sway (with little effort) into feeding them information for some simple coin. General Charles Lee.

Rebecca was not only telling the truth, but she had come so far to present herself as the ideal spy candidate. There was the question of the several officers she had killed, but they were British, and at this desperate point in the Continental Army’s life, they could not afford to be choosy in their recruitment of hope.A woman who, extraordinarily enough, could easily defend herself if need be. She could operate out of York City, and report her information to them directly. Flexible, in plain sight and yet, easily hidden. 

Benjamin Tallmadge had made a terrible mistake.

—

“Have ye gone completely mad, Ben?!” Caleb was saying as Ben finished fastening the buttons on his brown jacket, “Did Scott approve this?”

“Scott believes I am on assignment regarding Abraham,” Ben replied, searching for his hat, “In which I am validating his identity and accuracy.”

Caleb shook his head, “Yer loosin’ it, lad. That woman is dangerous, I’m tellin’ ya. At least let me go with ya so when she tries to slice off yer balls I can scalp ‘er.”

“Caleb, she was offering her services to Washington. She’s on our side, and I’ve just let her go. I need to find her and validate what she said about Lee, so I can file a full report. Washington will need to know this.” Ben said, trying to convey the urgency of the situation.

“Yer sure it’s not ‘cause ya want to screw ‘er?”

Ben sighed, “This army is desperate, Caleb.”

“Yeah, yeah, and so are you. I saw the way ya looked at each other. She’s not my kind ‘o lass but I ‘spose if I ran into ‘er in the woods I wouldn’t be choosy.”

“Look, nothing happened, she took care of my shoulder and sent me on a better path to camp,” Ben said, “If I’d not had the fortune to find her, I could have wound up like the rest of the poor men in my unit.” He paused. “Can you confirm that the privateer she refers to as her father was at least decent in the trade, so that might help you feel better?”

Caleb shrugged, “Charlie Morgan was a secretive fella, Ben. He managed to evade the British for years. Racked up some ‘o the best hauls, I hear. Though they did catch ‘em in the end.”

“And I wonder what became of her when that happened,” Ben said slowly, “How she went from privateering to being in York City. That piece is still missing.”

“Yer sure ya want to know what that is, Tall Boy?”

Ben placed his black tricorne hat on his head, “Look, I know how mad it sounds, but I just have a gut feeling that I can’t ignore. We need someone in York City, and I think she could be it.”

“Well, I know when yer mind’s made up, that’s that,” Caleb said in defeat, “Just be careful, alright? 

Ben hugged his friend tightly, “I will. I promise.”

“And lemme know if ya manage to screw ‘er before she murders ya. ‘Cause God won’t let ya in if yer a virgin.”


	5. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben runs into trouble on the road he believes Rebecca might be taking. Rebecca showcases her ability to defend herself. Ben and Rebecca take shelter in an abandoned Tory home for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca is Abenaki but is unaware of this due to leaving her tribe so young.
> 
> This chapter is absolutely NSFW.
> 
> Content warning: Alcohol consumption, rape mention, blood mention.

Benjamin Tallmadge had been traveling for hours as quickly as he could, but he did not stray from the path or try to take shortcuts out of fear he might miss Rebecca. Simply adjusting his collar, the young Dragoon could feel the late fall afternoon creeping in as he walked among the wooded area, careful to avoid civilization. In these parts, a lone traveler was not usually safe.

And this, he learned minutes later, was unfortunately true.

The three men seemed to come out of nowhere. One of them, the leader, was a burly man in a filthy coat. The other two, who were more scraggily but just as dirty, easily grabbed ahold of Ben on each side, rendering him unable to reach for his pistol.

“Well, look what we’ve got here, fellas,” the leader said with a toothless grin, “All by his lonesome.”

Ben yanked at the restraint, but unfortunately neither man would let him go. They simply laughed.

“You’re not from Jersey, are you, boy?” 

“If you let me be on my way, I won’t report your presence to any officers I happen to come across, sir.” Ben said, trying to sound tough.

“Ooooh. The boy offers a threat!” The burly man laughed, withdrawing a pistol from his hip and placing it against Ben’s forehead.

A swift sound of something cutting the air made Ben squeeze his eyes shut. But it wasn’t the sound of the man pulling the trigger. Realizing this, Ben opened his eyes and saw, what felt like in slow motion due to the shock of it, the man collapsing on the ground with an axe in the middle of his back.

“Caleb?!” Ben shouted.

The two men that held onto each of Ben’s arms argued with one another, twisting from side to side as they called out to the assailant. Ben himself tried to pull away, searching for his friend within the trees. But it was all in vain, as Ben felt each man let go at the same time, groaning as they slumped to the ground, a different knife in the back of their heads.

“Your wardrobe changes are starting to become alarming, Captain Tallmadge.”

Ben turned around in a daze.

“Rebecca?” Ben said, his eyes wide as saucers.

She went to pull the axe from the leader, who was struggling to stand up, “Just a moment.” Ben watched with a mixture of amazement and shock as she withdrew yet another knife from within her sleeve and quickly slit his throat, taking back her axe afterward.

“You know, I let these bastards live even after they tried to rape me an hour ago,” she said nonchalantly, making the same treatment of the two underlords, “Scared ‘em half to death when I threatened to scalp them.” She laughed a little. “I actually don’t even know how to scalp someone.”

“…do you do this often?” Ben asked, although he was afraid of the answer.

Rebecca sighed, going into her pack for a rag to clean the blood from the weapons, “I am pleased to say no. It’s only when I believe it necessary. Usually I just wound, which scares them off. But in this case, when this road is traveled by families-”

“Families?” Ben frowned at her, “But this…this is not the regular path.”

Rebecca tucked each of her now-clean knives into different compartments in her socks, “Tallmadge. You must know that Jersey’s dangerous with the British here now. And the more aggressive Patriots are forcing Tory families out to head north to Canada.”

Ben did not know that, and the look on his face informed Rebecca of the fact.

She sighed, “It doesn’t matter. Point is, three less robbers on the road. Now I must ask you, what in the devil’s name are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you, actually.”

“Oh?” Rebecca was intrigued, “Am I suddenly relevant to the cause?”

Ben sensed her annoyance, and it was warranted. “I must apologize for my dismissal.”

Rebecca smiled at him, which admittedly made his heart flutter, “Apology accepted, Captain.”

Ben looked around, expecting bandits or something else, “I would like to discuss this with you, in private, although I am unsure as to where that might be possible…”

“Lucky for you, I know a place.”

—

Night fell quickly, and Ben watched in amazement as Rebecca expertly (or seemingly so) tracked her way to a small cabin in the woods. She used random items like trees, some large stones and other natural landmarks to find the way. He took the opportunity to observe her, which for the first time in weeks, did not cause him any form of stress or worry.

The cabin wasn’t old, but it was clearly abandoned. The windows were boarded up and there appeared some very outdated roof shingles. But the cabin was sturdy looking. It was quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

“Who owns this place?” Ben asked as Rebecca approached the front door.

“Well, it belonged to a Tory man and woman, no children, not much older than you and I,” Rebecca said, removing a hairpin from her hair, “Suspect they ran when your lot came in. Loyalists, headed north- aha!” She pushed the door open.

Ben frowned at her, “Did you just break in?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you wish to sleep in the cold?” Rebecca said with a giggle, “Don’t be silly. Let’s get this fire going.”

Ben closed the door behind them, locking it securely. Rebecca busied herself with pulling back a floorboard where she’d hidden firewood and took it to the hearth. Captain Tallmadge saw a small, modest table, a few cooking pots (although they were not in great condition) and an unassuming bed.

“There we go! A nice fire to warm us,” Rebecca announced, removing her cloak, “Is something concerning you, Captain?”

Ben avoided eye contact with her, “Well, seeing as there is only one bed, I think it would be gentlemanly if I take the floor.”

Rebecca shrugged, “That won’t be necessary. You already know what I do to men who cross me, so I know you won’t try anything.”

Ben blinked quickly, “Miss Starling, I really must insist-”

“Are you hungry?” Rebecca asked, going to the small kitchen area, “I should have some pork left over from a few days ago that I can cook up.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I suppose I am quite convincing,” Rebecca said, starting to set up a cooking station by the fire, “When you’re on the run, you have to learn these things.”

Ben pulled over two of the chairs from the kitchen and pushed one towards her, taking the second, “Besides the redcoats, what else could you be on the run from?”

“Careful, you might not like my answers,” Rebecca unwrapped the pork she kept in her pack, “I would think you, being a Captain in a rebel army, would understand that.”

Ben smiled a little, “Not so. Grew up in a small town, all my life. Studied at Yale.”

“You’re a Yale man?” she mused, “So you must be well-read.”

“Unfortunately we have to be,” Ben replied, “I read much Greek prose, Cato and the like, Latin…”

“Cato is interesting, but I’m not sure he’s my chosen poet,” she said.

“You know Cato?” Ben was astonished.

“Oh, yes. There was a Yale book of his works that my father- the privateer, I mean- got for me when I was younger. Like every other volume he found, I devoured it in a day. I love books. If I had my way, I would spend all my time reading,” Rebecca was thrilled to discover the pot was heating up quicker than expected, “It is a shame women cannot attend Yale or other places of higher education. Maybe that is where I would be now.” She paused. “Actually, I heard they’re expensive. I think not.”

“I’ve never considered that before,” Ben said earnestly.

“Women attending Yale?”

Ben nodded, “Perhaps Congress will consider it when this war is over.”

“You’d have to win the war first,” Rebecca reminded him, “Because from what I heard in York City, it’s not looking well for Washington.”

Ben sighed, “I suppose word of our failures has traveled around the colonies, then.”

“I leave room for exaggeration in some areas. We are overrun with redcoats in our boarding house.”

“You run a boarding house, in York City?”

Rebecca swore under her breath.

“I take it you meant not to tell me this fact.”

“Captain,” she said firmly, “I know you value honesty, but I worry I may endanger others if I reveal too much.”

“I understand that,” Ben replied as she took a seat in the other chair at last, “Is it another adopted family?”

“Something like that,” she said, “And one I promised I would protect.”

“Oh I know that feeling all too well,” Ben said quietly, “I won’t pry. But I am curious as to how you went from an Indian village to here.”

Rebecca smiled as she looked into the fire, “It is a long story, Captain Tallmadge. But the short of it is, after the British burned the village, I ran into the woods, and on the other side came into a French settlement. I lived with a kind French couple for a few years. There were other Indian children around as well.”

“You mentioned they died of smallpox.”

She nodded sadly, “It was a grisly business. As soon as Maman died and he contracted it, Monsieur Tremblant told me to run so I would not meet the same fate. I think I was about seven at the time. So back to the woods I went, and days of wandering found me the privateers.”

“Why would privateers adopt a child?” Ben asked, “I can’t imagine a privateer camp is a place for one.”

“I suppose I was lucky in that way,” Rebecca said, “The man I came to call Papa, or Captain Charlie Morgan to everyone else, had no children of his own. He was the only father I ever had, really. Taught me everything I know about defending myself.”

“You’re saying this privateer taught you to knife and shoot?”

Rebecca nodded, “Shooting was easy. Axe-throwing even easier. It was learning how to do it quietly that was the challenge.”

“And how old were you when you did all this?”

“I was able to do it all, fairly enough, at what I believe was thirteen.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief.

Rebecca leaned forward to check on the food, “Do I frighten you, Captain Tallmadge?”

“Not in the least. I’m impressed, is all.”

“Impressed,” Rebecca mused, “I will take that as a compliment. I usually terrify people.”

“You’re not terrifying, not to me. At least not now.”

“Ah. So in this calm state, not even my savage dark skin pushes you away?”

Ben smiled, “No, on the contrary, you…” He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. The thoughts he had about her beauty were supposed to remain in his mind and never surface verbally.

Rebecca tilted her head at him, “Are you enamoured of me?”

Thankfully the water started to boil over before Ben had to answer. Distracted, Rebecca quickly took the pot into the kitchen and left him to ponder. He was going to have a lot of difficulty trying to keep his feelings and urges in check.

—

Rebecca managed to find a small amount of ale tucked away in a cupboard shortly after they had eaten. Pouring it into two small, worn out cups, she handed one to Ben and remained seated across from him by the fire. They agreed it was time to discuss the reason Ben had come after her in the first place, and thankfully this was going quite well as the night went on.

“…so the only thing to consider would be how to get the information to my courier.”

“Which I’m assuming is Lieutenant Brewster?” Rebecca asked.

Ben was sightly worried, “How did you know that?”

Rebecca smirked, “You are transparent on occasion. It only makes sense for him to be the courier. I could tell you trusted him.” She paused. “You knew each other before the war, didn’t you?”

Ben nodded, “Since we were children.”

Rebecca smiled faintly, “Admirable of you to fight together.”

“On the subject of Lieutenant Brewster…if you do have to interact with him at some point, I will speak to him regarding the manner in which he addresses you.”

“Captain Tallmadge, may I ask you something?”

Ben was intrigued, “Certainly.”

“Why are you not bothered by the fact that I am an Indian woman?”

Now Ben was truly caught off guard. He blinked rather quickly, drawing his gaze to the wooden floor. This he had to think about, and choose his words carefully.

“Is there reason why I ought to be concerned about your race, Miss Starling?”

“Well, Brewster doesn’t trust me,” she replied, “And I don’t think it is because I am a woman. It may be an underlying reason, but I can tell he’s encountered my kind before.” She paused. “Have you?”

Ben shook his head, “There is one Indian man in our camp, but he only speaks Algonquin. Caleb talks to him. I’ve…not made much of an effort, I admit…”

“So I’m the first one you’ve met that you have actually spoken to.”

Ben nodded, looking into the fire and counting the flames, “My mother taught me to use my gut feeling. Which I suppose is quite foolish.“

“And, pray tell, what is your ‘gut feeling’ about me?”

Ben could feel his heart betraying him as his cheeks flushed a deep crimson, “…that letting you go…would be a grave mistake.”

Rebecca leaned back in her chair a bit, a bit of courage coming over her with the ale, “That is perhaps the kindest thing a handsome stranger has ever said to me.”

Ben raised his eyebrows as he looked at her. Handsome? She thought he was handsome. A woman who looked the way a Cato poem felt actually said those words. He wondered if he’d drank too much ale, or if it was stronger than he had anticipated…

“Sorry,” Rebecca said when Ben did not reply, “I should not say such things.”

“N-no, I don’t…I don’t mind, really.” Ben insisted.

“Are you married, Captain? Or I suspect, engaged to be wed?” Rebecca dared.

Ben shook his head, “I’m afraid Yale, and now this war, have not allowed me the time…nor have I found the right partner.”

Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear, “I find that very hard to believe. I bet all the women in New Haven were fighting over you.” Where was this coming from? Her silly mind had bewitched her lips. She knew it would be better to keep her mouth shut, but at the same time, the release was welcomed.

Ben laughed a little, “Actually, they were fighting over the sons of the wealthy. Men who could offer them comfortable lives. A scholar can only do so much.”

Rebecca shrugged, “I would much rather a scholar than someone with money.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, what are you to talk about?” Rebecca said, “You can run a house, I suppose. Have a few children. But in the other moments, when it’s just the two of you, where will you find passion if not by common ground? Why, to be with someone who could understand my love for Shakespearean tragedies, but also be able to tell me more about them…or to educate me on the writings of Cato so I might better understand the relevance. It is but a great dream to be with a man who fills his spirit with books and not what lines his pockets.”

Ben Tallmadge was almost audibly panting. He absolutely could no longer stand it, forgoing everything he’d been telling himself for the past few hours and leaning forward to kiss her with everything in him. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, but one he did not regret.

Although, in typical Ben Tallmadge fashion, as they parted, he felt the need to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, Miss Starling, I-”

“Rebecca.”

“What?”

“Call me Rebecca. And I’m going to call you Ben.”

She kissed him this time, with as much vigor and desire as he did. Ben pulled her close to him, his hands resting on her waist as they made their way over to the bed. Rebecca pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top, to which Ben absolutely did not protest. He busied himself with the buttons on her dress while Rebecca removed his coat and almost tore his waistcoat straight off. In between their aggressive kissing it was hard to gasp for breath.

The corset cover removed, Ben found himself staring at her well-rounded chest. He wanted desperately to remove the corset, but struggled to find a way, alternating between the front and the back to try to find a starting point. Rebecca smirked and kissed him again, “Let me help.”

Slowly, she began to undo the corset, making Ben watch. As payback, Ben removed his cravat and shirt. Rebecca paused, seeing the scar from his injury.

This worried him, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Rebecca said quietly, ignoring the anger that bubbled up at the thought of the Queen’s Rangers injuring the man she had come to think about so often, “It’s just…I hate that they hurt you.”

Ben could feel his heart skipping beats, “Let’s not think of that now…”

She agreed. Gently, Rebecca led Ben’s clumsy fingers to untie the corset, relishing in the look on his face as she appeared bare chested before him. As she discarded the corset to the floor, Ben’s hands reached to grasp handfuls of each breast. Rebecca closed her eyes, hoping to remember this feeling forever.

“…are you not even the least bit nervous?” Ben said, his voice low, “I’ve heard it can be painful the first time, for a woman.”

“Ben,” she said, the sound of her voice speaking his name making him swoon, “I am not a woman of means, so I won’t be plagued by pain.”

It occurred to him suddenly that he was the only virgin in the situation. Ben started to almost panic as his mind built copious situations of Rebecca with her adventurous former bedmates. He started to worry that he would disappoint her.

“Do you wish to wait until your wedding night?” Rebecca asked him.

Ben shook his head, unable to speak. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Gentlemanly actions and other lovers be damned, Ben kissed her with everything he had in him, reaching down to remove his breeches. Rebecca followed by taking off what remained of her clothing.

There was no going back now.

Rebecca took in the sight of him, his body aglow from the light of the fire. He was an absolute glory of a man, with muscles in all the right places. She saw some scars which troubled her slightly, but the fact still remained that Ben Tallmadge was easily one of the most alluring humans she had ever laid eyes on.

She trailed kisses down his jawline and neck, nibbling on the most sensitive areas. Ben entangled his hands in her hair, now falling loose around her shoulders. He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of her traveling down his chest and abdomen, missing the view of her licking her lips before she placed her mouth around the head of his cock and slid forward.

Ben made a sharp intake of breath, bringing his gaze down to watch. He was unable to take his eyes off her, pulling the stray hairs from her face, watching the woman he had come to care for as she lovingly pleasured him. She seemed to follow his movements and noises, keeping up with what he liked, and remained gentle. He had to admit, for all he’d heard, it was a surprisingly intimate act to witness.

This was nothing like Caleb had described. Crazy Brewster, who told filthy tales of “face-fucking” a tavern girl somewhere on his travels in Greenland. Ben had never thought about it ever happening to him, and for good reason. No, this was different. It would end different.

“S-stop, please.” Ben said suddenly.

Rebecca lifted her head, “Is something wrong?”

Ben brought her up to his face, “God, Rebecca…you are so beautiful.”

Recognizing it was time, she crawled on top of him, her hips above his. Rebecca took a few tries before allowing Ben to sheath himself into her, realizing it had been some time for her. It was almost painfully slow, but he savoured every feeling. He wanted to get lost in this forever.

And then she announced, with a shy, sweet smile, that he was at last, fully inside her. Now it truly began. Ben was a virgin no more.

Rebecca leaned forward and rolled her hims rhythmically back and forth, which felt like heaven. Ben took one of her breasts in his mouth to suckle gently, which made her squeal like crazy. Not one to disappoint, he did the same to the other, loving the sounds she made.

The fire burned out, but neither noticed as they made love in the remaining moonlight on the small bed in the abandoned home. Ben flipped them over, hovering above her with pure lust in his eyes as he pushed inside. Rebecca wrapped her legs around his waist as Ben started to thrust into her, placing his hand in hers to hold.

Ben buried his face in her shoulder, kissing her neck, both of them thankful they were so isolated due to the noise they’d started to make. Rebecca looked at the ceiling of the cabin, unable to believe what was happening, running her free hand over his muscular back. She tried to find an angle that stimulated her, but as usual with every partner she’d had, it wasn’t happening.

Not one to give up, Rebecca freed both hands to place them on his behind, pressing him further into her. She was thrilled to discover that not only did this push Ben right to where she needed him to touch, but that he had a generous backside. The boy’s breeches must have always been near to bursting! How had she not seen this before?

A sudden change in pace forced her thoughts to break, and Rebecca could hear Ben start to moan louder. And to her surprise, something was building up within her. A feeling she had not yet experienced during lovemaking.

Ben whispered that he was close, and she told him it was ok. Moments later, Rebecca felt Ben hold onto her tighter as her lower body suddenly exploded into a million tiny stars. Her face flushed and she almost felt tears well up in her eyes as she squeezed them shut. It wasn’t possible. It had to be a dream. She had never finished before. And yet, as she came down from the high and felt a pool of warmth, Rebecca realized she had.

What’s more, Ben had done the same. She could feel the remnants of him as she opened her eyes to see him brushing the hair from her face. His deep blue eyes made her body swim with pure joy. Or maybe it was the result of her orgasm.

“Did…did we…do that at the same time?” Ben asked, breathless.

Rebecca broke into the biggest smile, “…I think so.”

Ben grinned right back at her, and they both started to laugh. He kissed her, more chaste than he ever had, and took his time removing himself. Spent, he collapsed next to her, and Rebecca could not stand to be apart from him even for a second. Laying her head on his chest, Ben wrapped a protective arm around her and Rebecca closed her eyes. He quietly kissed her forehead, taking a moment to admire her, before he too chose to rest.

And, for once, they each drifted off into a restful, dreamless sleep.


	6. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Townsend reflects on a personal loss. Ben makes a secure decision. Mr. and “Mrs.” Townsend receive a surprise on Thanksgiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving was in December before 1789, however like the show portrays it will be placed in November.
> 
> Chapter is NSFW.
> 
> Content warning: Abuse mention.

The morning after arrived lazily, with streams of pale sunlight coming through the tiny remaining unboarded window in the back of the cabin. Rebecca slowly opened her eyes, needing a moment to remember where she was, and found herself feeling remarkably warm. Then, as she was about to move, she realized it was impossible, as a pair of arms were wrapped tightly around her.

She could feel the warmth of Ben’s body, coupled with the gentleness of his hands caressing hers, and a serene sense of calm washed over her. Rebecca knew they hadn’t fallen asleep that that way, but was unsure how they got into this position. It occurred to her then that she’d actually slept soundly through the night, and any movement had been done without awakening. Truly a feat for someone as restless as she.

Rebecca managed to turn so she faced him, which stirred the still asleep (and perhaps, even more beautiful in the morning) Benjamin Tallmadge. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled, kissing her gently. It felt so innocent in comparison to what they’d done mere hours ago.

Ben gazed at her sleepily, “…I was afraid I had dreamt it.”

Rebecca blushed as Ben touched her cheek. She could stay pressed against him like this forever, allowing her hand to wander through his soft, disheveled hair. There was so much more of him she wanted to explore.

Ben brought her into a deeper kiss this time, which seemed to arouse them both. Kissing harder and more vigorously, Rebecca reached down and discovered much to her satisfaction that Ben was ready for another round. The captain smiled as she climbed on top of him, revealing her body in the morning light for the first time.

He didn’t want to close his eyes as she started to ride him. Ben held onto Rebecca’s hips, taking in the glorious scene before him. Every curve of her he wanted to memorize and remember, for he knew once they returned to camp this would not be the focus. This wasn’t something they could get away with in his quarters.

Rebecca loved the way Ben’s alluring blue eyes gazed at her. This was the first man she’d lain with that looked at her this way, as if she were more than just an object for his pleasing. She could have sworn he was more in awe of her than anything. Ben reached for her breast and she placed her hand over his, entwining him in the moment.

A sudden feeling within her cause Rebecca to start to gasp. To her utter surprise and joy, she could feel her climax rising with Ben’s movements. Ben watched (and certainly felt) her being overcome with pleasure, and swore to himself that if he were to die tomorrow, this was the heaven he would beg to find himself in. 

In truth, his own satisfaction was measured by how much she was enjoying herself. Ben didn’t seem to care about himself that morning, flipping them over and shifting the entire focus onto her. Rebecca was writhing underneath him, thrilled that he was treating her to another wonderful rush just as the last one was fading.

It wasn’t long before Ben felt his own orgasm crashing over him. Rebecca wrapped her arms around him as he trembled, kissing his neck and shoulder, careful around his healing wound. Ben pressed his forehead against hers, still taking it all in even as their lovemaking ended. A sweet, soft comedown.

As Ben collapsed next to her, Rebecca sighed, “I wish I could do that every morning…”

“…you are sure that I…that I haven’t hurt you?” Ben asked, still catching his breath.

“Admittedly…I am a bit sore now, but it was entirely worth it,” she said with a grin, kissing Ben again, “You are something else, Ben Tallmadge.”

Ben kissed her back, snaking his arm around her shoulder, “As much as I love being in this bed with you, I realize we still haven’t discussed the matter at hand…”

“You mean the reason you tracked me down, or rather, tried to?”

Ben was slightly, but playfully, defensive, “Hey, I would have found you if I’d had a bit more time.”

“Sure, sure,” Rebecca teased, “But I do suppose you’re right. And I’m due to be in York City by this evening.” Regrettably releasing herself from him, she rose and began to pick up her clothes.

“Well, I didn’t say you had to be dressed for the discussion…” Ben said, admiring her body. He still couldn’t believe his luck.

Rebecca knew he was looking as she bent over to grab her dress, “Captain, I may allow this to happen again, but for the sake of time…”

Ben smiled, sitting up, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He reached for his trousers, still sneaking a glance at her. The young captain wished to memorize her.

Rebecca quickly got dressed, “So. Have you anyone else spying for you in York City, at the moment?”

Ben shifted, “Well, no…you would be our only agent.”

“Mmm. Agent. I do like that.”

“But you do realize the danger if you agree, Rebecca,” Ben insisted, “This isn’t a game.”

“Danger is nothing to me,” she replied simply, “Now then. Your courier. Where am I to meet him?”

“Caleb is unable to cross into your area since he is both privateer and soldier. So we would have to arrange a point outside of the city.”

“Right…and I am your only agent?”

“Not exactly,” Ben said as he, much to Rebecca’s disappointment, put on his shirt, “I’ve one other. He’s located on Long Island.”

“Long Island?” Rebecca frowned, “Is he close to Oyster Bay?”

“It’s a half day’s ride, but yes,” Ben replied, interest piqued, “I thought you were located in York City.”

“I am, but I visit Oyster Bay on occasion. And it would not be difficult for me to do so semi regularly.”

Despite how much he enjoyed the night before and that morning, Ben was growing tired of trying to dissect her past, “Have you got family there you haven’t told me about?”

Rebecca sighed, “It’s complicated, but there is someone there I would consider such.”

“Do you mind my asking who?”

“I do mind. Only because I don’t want anyone else involved. I am the only one volunteering for this.”

“Very well,” Ben understood, “But I must warn you. My other agent is from a small town. It’s called Setauket. I’ve known him since we were very young, and unfortunately I believe he might take issue with your involvement.”

This didn’t surprise her. “Because I’m a woman?”

“That, and because you’re a stranger,” Ben admitted, “Abe…I mean, Abraham, he doesn’t trust anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Well perhaps I could meet this Abraham fellow,” she offered, “Ben, I’m due in York tonight. But in the morning I’m leaving for Oyster Bay. Setauket is not far. If you think he might be open to meeting me…”

Ben thought about it, “I wish you would tell me the reasoning for your movements. It doesn’t bode well for our relationship.”

“Relationship?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

“I mean of course in your service to the cause. You, working under me.”

“I believe I worked on top of you a lot more, Captain.”

Ben’s cheeks flushed pink and Rebecca smirked, “What I am trying to say is that it is not good for you to hide things. It makes you look untrustworthy.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, “Very well. But you must promise to keep this bit of information to yourself.”

Ben shook his head, “I can’t promise that, if Washington asks me about you-“

She crossed her arms, “Fine. I lived in Oyster Bay for a time, as an adopted child after Charles Morgan died. The family I lived with were terrible, but I befriended another. It is they who I’m to visit soon.”

“Well. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“For me, it wasn’t. You should know, Captain Tallmadge, that I will not allow my loved ones to come under fire for this. They do not get involved. It will be me, and only me.”

“And that is quite clear. So, you’ll ride for Setauket in two days’ time, after Thanksgiving?”

“I’ll find a way, but yes. I will. And your friend…”

“Abraham,” Ben continued, “Yes, about that. I think it might be best if you met him through another Setauket person. A woman.”

Rebecca was quite interested, “Oh?”

“She’s our signal for intelligence pick up,” Ben explained as he finished fastening the buttons on his waistcoat, “And I’ve got a feeling you will get along quite well. Now then…you’ll want to enter her tavern, and once you meet, there will need to be a question and a code…” Ben went into his pack and withdrew a quill, ink and paper.

“How does she signal?” Rebecca asked.

Ben was scratching away at something, “She hangs a black petticoat.”

Rebecca marveled at this, “Brilliant…”

Ben was mumbling something to himself, making plans. She noticed the focus in his face, right down to the strong jawline that clenched as he paused for thought. There was so much going on in those blue eyes. Heavens, he was gorgeous, even then.

“Right. You’ll enter the Strong Tavern. It’s the only one in town. Her name is Anna Strong, she’s got dark hair, dark eyes-“

“Like me?”

“N-no, not exactly.” Ben stumbled a little. Anna was his friend, and though he could admit she was pretty, he also felt she didn’t hold a candle to Rebecca. Then again, at this point no one did.

Thankfully, Rebecca didn’t notice, “Anna Strong. Strong Tavern. Right. And what question should I ask?”

“You say, ‘Is it true you get much of your ale from York City?’ And her reply will be, ‘We haven’t had York ale since the spring of ‘73.’ An easy enough conversation that will function as your identification.”

“And how will Anna know the answer?” Rebecca asked.

“Caleb will deliver it to her tonight,” Ben explained, “So she’ll be prepared when you walk in. I’ll instruct her to introduce you to Abe.”

He then listed off all the things of importance in York City - troop numbers, locations, names, and of course the confirmation of General Lee - and that arranging a drop off point in Oyster Bay for Abe to cross to would come soon after. Rebecca nodded as she finished getting dressed. There was silence for a few minutes as they both prepared to leave. Packing up and ensuring no tracks were left behind.

“Captain Tallmadge?” Rebecca said suddenly after he ensured the door was locked.

Ben looked at her, “Yes?”

“What if…what if your friend declines my involvement?” she asked, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. 

“Well. I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we reach it.” Ben replied simply.

Rebecca nodded, “Right. Er, good luck, and be careful on your way back. Don’t trust anyone.”

Ben smiled a little at her, “Of course. May your passage to the city also be safe and quick.”

“I’m sorry you won’t be in Setauket for Thanksgiving. Your family must miss you.” Rebecca added.

“How did you know I was from Setauket?” Ben asked, genuinely curious.

“You said Abraham was your friend. And you grew up with Lieutenant Brewster. I assume Anna Strong is also in the group. Those clues, along with the gentleness you hold, I knew you weren’t from a large city. It wasn’t hard to figure it out.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief, “You’re already functioning like a spy.”

“Then I hope to be one of your best.” Rebecca replied, perhaps meaning something more. “Happy travels, Captain Tallmadge.”

And to you, Miss Starling.” Ben replied. Although, he sounded unsure.

She nodded and turned to leave, a few steps onto her own trail when suddenly he called out to her.

Ben was rushing over, “Just…if anything happens, or there’s anything you need, I can help you.” 

“Help me?”

Ben reached down and took both of her hands, “I can protect you, Rebecca, if ever you need me to.”

“Captain Tallmadge, you can’t even protect yourself.” She said with a little sly smile.

Ben said nothing, only looked into her eyes determined. Rebecca realized how serious he was. A man offering her protection, well, this had certainly happened before. But this one was different. She’d not been propositioned by a Continental officer before. A rebel officer.

“…I’ll remember that,” Rebecca managed to stutter, getting lost in his gaze, “Now get back to camp so I can return to York.”

Ben let go of her hands, and Rebecca realized how sad she was that he did. It felt as though she’d lifted a blanket during the cold of winter and the warmth was escaping. The warmth was Benjamin Tallmadge, and this worried her. Usually after she’d lain with a man (and there had not been many), she found herself eager to get rid of them. This was not the case.

“I hope to see you again, Miss Starling.” Ben said as they finally separated. He truly did.

“I hope the same.” Rebecca replied, the distance between them growing. She felt the same.

Eventually she couldn’t see his form, and he could not see hers. As he got on the trail back to camp, Ben was filled with regret. Not because of what he’d done the night before (and that morning), rather, that thrilled him. So much as getting to touch her felt like a dream. It wasn’t that he had successfully recruited an agent in York City, either. That would impress Scott when the time came, and hopefully Washington too. 

It was the fact that there was a remaining ache on his lips. A tremble that didn’t seem to go away. A sinking feeling in his stomach accompanied it.

Ben wished he had kissed her goodbye.

–

Robert Townsend did not like to admit, even to himself, that despite how much he liked his solitude, sometimes he was lonely. It was more apparent now that Rebecca was away. It bothered him more than he was aware.

As evening fell, Robert remembered something he’d kept packed away in a secret compartment in the desk in his room. Closing time arrived, and upon finishing the remaining chores, he decided to retrieve it. In the comfort and privacy of his room, Robert unfolded an old letter.

_My beloved,_

_My love is as a fever, longing still_

_For that which longer nurseth the disease,_

_Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,_

_Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please._

_My reason, the physician to my love,_

_Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,_

_Hath left me, and I desperate now approve_

_Desire is death, which physic did except._

_Past cure I am, now reason is past care,_

_And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;_

_My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,_

_At random from the truth vainly expressed:_

_For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,_

_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night._

_-Still Yours._

Robert hated Shakespeare. He felt him overdone and overrated. However, this sonnet, #147 to be exact, was someone’s way of communicating to him several years earlier, their true feelings. When he’d first read it, Robert struggled to make sense of it, until further repeated readings in the hand of someone he cared for struck a chord with him.

It was a sonnet about the guilt of loving a mistress. A mistress who, no matter what the lover did, could not turn away from or stop thinking about. In this case, in his foolish youth, Robert was the “mistress.” And it still hurt to think about, even now.

His father had told him to never put his secrets in writing, but Robert’s lover had. In fact, they’d been the one to start it. There was admittedly a thrill to it, the wicked game of sending letters in some sort of code to convey their truest emotions. Robert supposed other lovers did this as well.

Outsiders wondered what a good Quaker like Robert was doing with someone like Rebecca. Their friendship was built on a solid agreement that they were both what society could not accept- she, an Indian and he, something else- and that they each held the other’s deepest secrets. Rebecca told Robert of all the abuse she suffered at the hands of the Hill family, and he comforted her the best way a teenager could. Often he helped her escape to his father’s warm house, where food was plenty and kindness never ran out. And in return, Rebecca was the courier of these letters.

But she didn’t agree with this correspondence. Not because it was a man Robert was involved with. But because he was older, and due to become engaged to a woman very soon. She wanted to protect Robert’s tender heart, which he kept under lock and key. There was only so much that could be done. Robert was in love.

The night it all ended was the worst night of his life. It came in the form of their last letter, which tore at him so badly that Robert actually burned it. Rebecca knew what it said despite not having looked, as she had received it from the man in question, and recalled he was solemn as he handed it to her. Robert met Rebecca by the water, in their private spot, and read it to himself in her presence.

Robert supposed that was the last time he’d cried. Before that it had been when his mother passed away when he was little. He couldn’t recall sobbing harder in his life, a mixture of anger at false hope and a genuine broken heart. Rebecca didn’t say anything, but held on to her dear friend as he wept. There was nothing to say.

Folding the letter up, Robert sighed. Being alone was better than the pain of falling in love and getting hurt like this again, especially for his kind. This secret, and the one of his youth, he would take to his grave. Rebecca promised to do the same.

He heard noise downstairs and recognized the pattern of single footsteps. Rebecca, his pretend wife, had arrived. Robert supposed he ought to greet her, if only to remove himself from this melancholy, but also to see if she would tell him where she’d been. At least the first thing was possible.

“Seems I arrived just in time to say goodnight,” Rebecca said with a smile as Robert met her, “Did I miss anything important?”

“Not really,” Robert admitted, “Although, Mr. Ryerse finally paid his bill.”

“Ooh,” Rebecca raised her eyebrows, “Did you have to get all miffed with him?”

“Yes, I certainly went in for the kill, as you might say.” Robert replied with a smirk. His sarcasm was not lost on her.

“That’ll be the day. Robert Townsend actually raising his voice at an irritating customer,” Rebecca laughed, “We’ve got an early start tomorrow, don’t we? Ought to get to sleep.”

“That was we must,” Robert agreed, “I trust your trip was a success?”

“It was,” Rebecca said, “And a very tiring one.”

Robert stood in front of her, blocking her from entering the stairs.

“You know we’re both seeing my father tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she replied, “The last time I saw Samuel, before I came to you, he was overjoyed to see me. So you don’t have to fret about that.”

“Promise me something, and I mean promise me.” Robert insisted.

Rebecca nodded, “Anything.” Although she could never promise that.

“I’ve elected not to tell him that you and I are faking a marriage, and therefore see no reason to do so now. You likely know it goes completely against our faith. It is highly improper for you to live here, yes, but we may have to come up with a better story, and perhaps under the guise of hired help-”

“Robert, listen. Whatever you tell Samuel, I will agree with. We can tell him we’re engaged or that we’re just married, or something similar. Perhaps just that I work for you in exchange for room and board, and we tell people we are married so any of the less kind customers leave me alone. You know when it comes to your father, or anyone, I’ll back you up as you need me to.”

Robert felt a sense of relief, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“You knew I would. But you worry about everything. Just as you always have, you silly man. Now please step aside so I can collapse into my bed, and be ready in time to leave tomorrow.”

–

The trip was a long one. It always was. Robert had no idea how Rebecca had managed to get herself a horse nor did he want to know. He made peace with the fact that her time between leaving Oyster Bay and returning to find him in York City would always been unknown to him, despite the hope that she might tell him some of what happened.

Rebecca didn’t say a word. It was all small talk, reminiscing about their preteen and teen lives. Robert had been teased mercilessly for his shyness, and she for her race. He updated her on the lives of their bullies, two of which managed to die of forms of influenza the past winter. None of them had bothered to venture outside of town, unlike Robert, who supposed he’d done so to find himself or something similar. Rebecca, of course, told him about how she’d returned to her privateer family, of which he knew about, but didn’t divulge details. 

It was just as well. Robert didn’t spill anything of too much importance regarding himself anyway. He trusted Rebecca, knowing she would never do anything to hurt him or his father.

Night was about to fall when they arrived at the Townsend farm. Rebecca led her horse to the barn along with Robert and his. Once they assured their animals had enough food and drink, they proceeded to the front door.

Robert didn’t even get the chance to withdraw his key when the door flung open, and to their complete surprise stood a vibrant and excited Sally Townsend, Robert’s younger sister.

“My stars, it’s true!” Sally exclaimed, throwing her arms around Rebecca and hugging her tightly, “You did return! Father was telling the truth after all!”

“Sally,” Rebecca said, still in shock as she tried to hug her back, “I…what are you doing in Oyster Bay? I thought you’d moved to Virginia with your husband.”

“I did!” Sally replied with her usual grin, “But I’ve come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas while Zachariah builds our house, and takes care of other business.” She finally let go and turned her attention to Robert. “My dearest brother, how wonderful to see you again.”

“And I say the same of you,” Robert replied, “How is your husband doing?”

Sally rolled her eyes, giggling, “Oh, the same. Still worried about everything. But he’ll be here for Christmas in a few weeks’ time, so you’ll get the chance to ask him yourself.”

“Have they arrived?” Samuel Townsend’s voice echoed from within the house, prompting Sally to pull them both inside. 

“Yes, Father, Robert and Rebecca are both here!” Sally announced, “Rebecca, you must know, he’s been fussing about dinner for two days now, wanting to make sure it was perfect.”

Samuel appeared from within the dining room, positively glowing with warmth, “Oh my dear. You look well!” He opened his arms to embrace her, to which Rebecca obliged.

“Are you two actually engaged?” Sally asked Robert slyly.

Robert sighed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“It is wonderful to see you, Mr. Townsend.” Rebecca said, and she meant it.

“I must agree. It appears my son has been treating you kindly, as I would expect,” Samuel said, “Robert, how was the journey?”

“Uneventful,” Robert replied as his father patted his shoulder, “Which is as it should be.”

“Indeed,” Samuel agreed, “Now then, you two must be starving! Let’s proceed.”

Samuel Townsend’s dinner table was always plentiful, which Rebecca loved. He might have been a Quaker, but he did not believe food was an indulgence, rather, a right. As she took a seat next to Sally and the group began to eat, Rebecca found herself sinking into a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time: calm.

Actually, she’d felt calm yesterday morning when she awoke in the arms of Ben Tallmadge. Safe, even. Before that, the only time she ever truly felt safe lately was whenever she was in her bed at the boarding house or whenever she was closing up the place with Robert. It seemed she had grown used to looking over her shoulder.

“Father said you just showed up out the blue just over a month ago,” Sally said, “What on earth happened to you, Rebecca? We were so worried.”

Rebecca paused, a million thoughts and possible answers racing through her head. She could feel Robert looking at her. “Er…it’s a long story…”

“Well. We knew that Jonathon Hill was a pig.” Sally said with malice.

Robert raised his eyebrows at her.

“A less than kind fellow, yes,” Samuel agreed, “It seems the Lord takes care of His children.”

“Father, you can’t seriously mean the Mr. Hill’s death was a blessing.” Robert said, prompting a strange look from Rebecca.

“…he died, then.” Rebecca said quietly. She didn’t realize at the time, but Robert had taken her a different way to the house so that they wouldn’t cross by the Hill residence.

“No one survives being stabbed in the neck, usually.” Sally said nonchalantly.

“Sally.” Samuel warned.

“They spun this foolish tale of a robbery, didn’t they, Father?” Sally continued boldly, “But we knew better.”

“Sounds like something they would do.” Rebecca said quietly.

Robert realized this was bothering her, “Perhaps a change of subject, then?”

“On the contrary,” Sally insisted, “Rebecca, you ought to know that we looked for you for weeks. Sent out search parties. Why, I wanted to ride for York City just in case you managed to make it there-”

“Why were you looking for me?” Rebecca asked. 

“Because my father wanted to take you in permanently.” Robert said.

Rebecca looked across the table at Samuel, “Is this true?”

“Well,” Samuel admitted, “I’d been trying to formally adopt you for years at that point, but seeing as you fled, I eventually decided it was what you’d wanted in the end. One cannot tame another spirit, especially a free one.”

Rebecca could feel her eyes welling up with tears, “You…wanted to adopt me?”

“Of course, anything to get you away from that awful family,” Sally said, “You were practically part of the family as it was.”

Robert nodded, “I remember it well, actually. One Christmas, I believe when we were fifteen, Father approached Mr. Hill with a sum of money.”

Sally giggled, “Almost like a dowry!”

Samuel shrugged, “It seems so foolish now, but that man was so concerned with lining his pockets it seems like a good idea at the time!”

“Yes, trying to bribe someone for their child is a good idea,” Robert said sarcastically, but Rebecca noticed a hint of a smile, “And Mr. Hill said no, on the several occasions he tried. The man clearly had pride.”

“But he didn’t give up, you know,” Sally added, “This went on for a year or so. Father consulted with the magistrate, he called on friends who went to York City to be lawyers, trying to find some sort of legal loophole or obligation that would save you from them. I swear, Rebecca, he tried everything.”

Rebecca blinked away the tears, “I am terribly grateful, Mr. Townsend. Just as I am now for allowing me to share your table.”

“It is a blessing to have you here, my dear,” Samuel replied, “And Robert tells me you might be joining our family after all.”

Rebecca looked at Robert, who was clearly quite nervous, “Well, we are for the sake of boarders saying that is the case.”

“I see,” Samuel said, grinning, “Perhaps sooner rather than later?”

Rebecca placed her hand on his under the table, ensuring him she would go along with whatever he chose to say.

“When we can afford it.” Robert said plainly.

“I’ve always liked spring weddings, they’re romantic.” Sally added, “With all the flowers in bloom.”

“You were married in the fall.” Robert said.

“Yes, but that’s because Zachariah waited so long to propose!” Sally pouted, “And yet, nothing has come of that.”

“Sally is desperate to have children,” Samuel explained, “And I certainly don’t object to the idea of a grandson or two.”

“Or granddaughters,” Sally corrected him, “But yes, sadly, we are yet to be blessed with any little Wilsons. Hopefully by next Thanksgiving I will be bringing one here to visit.”

The chatter over the meal was pleasant and sweet. Rebecca learned that Sally, who met Zachariah when she was visiting Robert in York City two years earlier, was eager to have a large family since her own growing up had been so small. Her husband was not a Quaker, rather he was Anglican, and Samuel explained his own wife had been the same (though she much preferred the company of the Friends). He cared little for the change of faith, truly he hoped his children would be obedient to God in other ways. Zachariah Wilson was a good, strong fit for Sally, and was hard at work building their home in the hills of Virginia.

It was nice to be there, in a place of simplicity and family. In the Townsend house there was little talk of the war or the problems facing colonists. Rebecca was happy to abstain for that for the night, happy to hear all about Sally’s husband and Samuel’s farm. Even telling stories of the interesting characters they met at the boarding house brought her some joy.

Could it be, with perhaps the warmth of the fire as an influence, Rebecca Starling enjoyed monotony?

–

When she was certain everyone else was asleep, Rebecca slipped into the hallway and tiptoed downstairs. Always good at evading capture and the stirring of others, she made it to the parlour in the dark simply by memorizing the look of the place before everyone had gone to bed. This had proved useful on more than one occasion.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin, “Sally?”

Sally stood up from a chair that had been placed in the corner, obscuring her from moonlight’s view, “I knew it! You’re sneaking out. Are you off to see your beau?”

Rebecca frowned, “N-no, actually, I was just going out for some air. And my beau, as you’re aware, is actually your-”

“Please,” Sally said, “I know you and Robert aren’t actually together. That’s impossible.”

Rebecca blinked at her, “Yes we are.”

Sally approached her, looking around before she said anything, “You are masquerading as a couple to trick my father. I know it. You’ve done it before, when we were younger. And.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Robert is not keen on women anyway.”

Rebecca took a step back, “Sally, what do you want?”

“To know where you’re going. Really.”

She sighed, “Sally…I cannot tell you that.”

“No? Then I suppose I’ll wake Robert and ask him-”

“Don’t!” Rebecca said in a harsh whisper, followed by a defeated sigh, “Fine. I am going to meet a man. Robert is aware of this, he just wanted me to do so at night so as not to alarm Samuel.”

Sally crossed her arms, “That isn’t true, though, is it? You’re up to something more.”

Rebecca groaned, tilting her head back. Sally was far too young to understand this, nor did she want her involved. After all, she had made a promise to Robert.

“I’m going back to bed,” she said, turning to the staircase, “Goodnight, Sally.”

“Wait. Are you with the rebels?”

She froze.

Sally’s eyes widened, “Oh, by the devil, you are!”

Rebecca turned to face her, “Sally, I am being serious-”

“You know, Washington is from Virginia, and his wife is managing their estate there,” Sally said excitedly, “I’ve seen it from afar, and it’s bound to be magnificent. Mrs. Washington always dresses so fine, you see, I admire her even though it’s not right for our faith.”

Rebecca closed her eyes. Sally realized the impropriety. 

“Sorry, I got carried away,” Sally said quietly, “Does Robert know?”

Rebecca swallowed, shaking her head.

“Father is Whiggish in his ways, as am I, although I keep one of those Loyalist pins on my cloak when I travel north,” Sally admitted, “But I wonder, what could you be doing for Washington’s cause? Surely women cannot enlist.”

Rebecca shifted uncomfortably. On one hand, she knew she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about this. Ben would advise against it. However, Rebecca knew Sally, and Sally was the keeper of many secrets. Not once had she betrayed Rebecca’s trust, be it when Rebecca confided in her about her mistreatment at the Hill’s or when other similar instances. Though a bit of a free spirit herself, Sally was easy to approach due to her sweet nature, and likely knew so much about everyone in her life that she could easily blackmail anyone. But a pure soul like Sally would never dream of doing such a thing.

So, Rebecca took a chance.

“I’m to meet with someone tonight regarding that, actually. And if I don’t get going now, I’ll miss him.”

“Him?” Sally’s romantic heart ran away yet again.

“Not quite. He’s a friend of the officer that recruited me. We’re to work together, sort of.”

“An officer in the Continental Army?” Sally was impressed, “Please tell me how you came to meet him. There’s no way it was by way of York City.”

“No, it definitely wasn’t,” Rebecca could feel embarrassment creeping in as she thought about handsome Benjamin Tallmadge, “But if I don’t go now, I’ll let him down.”

“Where are you going exactly?”

“Setauket.”

“Setauket!”

“Do you know it?” Rebecca asked.

“I do,” Sally said, “I knew a girl who lived there for a time. So let me see, here. You plan on riding to Setauket, tonight, to meet your other operative. And then you think you’ll get back before Robert and Father wake up.” She laughed a little. “Heavens, Rebecca, you know Father’s an early riser. You’ll easily be missed.”

“Not if I go now, and you cover for me.” Rebecca suggested.

Sally shook her head, “Absolutely not. I’ve got a better idea.” She took the chance to look around to ensure, once again, that no one was listening in. “I’ll go with you, tomorrow. We’ll tell them we’re going for a ride to catch up and discuss things like women do. Father will definitely buy that, since he knows I’m a chatterbox. But we’ll ride for Setauket together.”

“And what do you propose we do once we arrive? Two strange women?”

“Easy,” Sally said smugly, “We’re there to see if they have land for sale. Land that’s left from the rebels who have been arrested. ‘Land that belongs to our King.’ And our husbands, oh dear, they’re back in York City for now, but they’ll be along in a day’s time. We’re cousins and were eager to take a look.” 

Rebecca was impressed, “That…would almost work.”

“And Zachariah says I read too many novels,” Sally said with a shrug, “Ah, well. A woman’s place is debatable, I like to think.”

Rebecca nodded, “Right…but I wonder. Why do you want to help me with this?”

Sally put a hand on her shoulder, “The taxation without representation did terrible things to my husband’s family. And I grow weary of watching the men go off to fight while I do nothing.”

“But you want to be a mother, Sally. Surely you can’t get involved.”

“And I will be, and I am not. Just this once. I will feel no more guilt on my conscience if I help you make this crucial connection.” She paused, smiling that sweet smile that drove many of the men in Oyster Bay wild. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“You tell me all about that officer you met. Because I have a feeling he persuaded you using an ‘unconventional’ method.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, “And what method would that be, exactly?”

“The same you and I employ when we need to get what we want from the men,” Sally said playfully, “I see it in your face, Rebecca. You’re keen.”

“Keen or not, I need to get to Setauket first thing tomorrow,” Rebecca said, “Can I count on you?”

Sally nodded, “Haven’t you always?”

“You should know, this is treason, what we’re doing.”

“Well, I did say I wanted to do something special before I dedicated my life to motherhood, after all.”


	7. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb questions Ben’s choices. Rebecca and Sally arrive in Setauket. Anna meets an unusual ally. Abe and Rebecca clash. Ben receives an unexpected letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies is this isn’t 100% accurate to the show for I am tired and currently doing full time coursework in addition to writing. Hopefully this works just as well!

“You want to me to do  _what_?!”

“Caleb can you not raise your voice…”

“Fine,” Caleb lowered his voice to a whisper, “Yer daft, Tall Boy.”

Ben groaned, “Do you need me to explain it again?”

“No point, I ain’t doin’ it.” Caleb said plainly. He was, of course, talking about the order to take the boat to Setauket and deliver the message of Rebecca’s arrival and considered rendezvous with Abe to Anna. 

“Caleb-”

“No, Ben, I told Annie straight, that this is a man’s job, and I’ll be damned before that savage wench-”

“Her name is Rebecca, and yes, she is Indian by race, but she is one of us,” Ben said, “She saved my life twice now. And has pledged to the cause. She is at a key point in York City, and has agreed to send intelligence by riding to Oyster Bay herself! Where else are we going to get that?”

“I dunno, find a man?” Caleb shrugged, “‘snot like all the lads in York City are Loyalists, after all.”

“And when and how are we to do that?” Ben asked, “For now, she is our only option, and she holds a useful place as a woman. No one would suspect her.”

“That I agree with, no one would suspect a damned red woman who works in a boarding house-”

“Caleb,” Ben said firmly, and he didn’t like having to be this way with a good friend like him, “I’m afraid this is an order.”

Caleb raised his eyebrows, “An order.”

“If Washington comes to me inquiring about Abraham, which I’m hoping he does, he’ll want to know our plan and it would not bode well if he is the only agent we have,” Ben explained, “And… since you report directly to me, I am giving you an order, as your superior, to take these instructions to our agent in Setauket.”

Caleb glared at him, “Yer a bastard.”

Ben simply blinked at him, “Do you care about the ring or not?”

“If she ends up drivin’ a knife into yer back-”

“Then I’ll rightfully deserve it,” Ben agreed, “Now you might want to get going. If she arrives in Setauket without Anna receiving instruction, we risk exposing this before it’s even been properly built.”

“I reeaallly hope ya know what yer doin’, Tall Boy,” Caleb warned, “And it’s not ‘cause yer sweet on the girl.”

“Well, you’re calling her a ‘girl’ now, so I suppose we’re getting better?” Ben said, receiving a playful shove from Brewster.

“I mean it! A woman’s charms, they’ll be the death of ye,” Caleb said, “But about time ye admitted it. So, when’s the wedding?”

“There won’t BE a wedding if you don’t get going!” Ben urged him, although they were both laughing.

—

**The next morning**

“I always forget how beautiful Long Island is,” Sally said dreamily. Rebecca had to agree, seeing as they had both witnessed a glorious November sunrise over the gentle lands of Oyster Bay. Despite the bad memories she carried from her years in the area, Rebecca found herself feeling cheerful, albeit a bit nervous, about the journey ahead.

She’d forgotten how chatty Sally was, but this made the trip shorter and easier. Rebecca heard all about how she met Zachariah, the introduction to both Samuel and Robert, the initial proposal and the fall wedding. Sally was a romantic, but she was also a realist: she knew her husband was of good, reliable stock and insisted on meeting his family before the nuptials took place.

“And what of your beau?” Sally asked, her trademark mischievous grin on her face.

“You already know Robert,” Rebecca joked, “The least talkative man you’ll ever meet.”

“Oh please!” Sally laughed, “This rebel man, of course, is who I’m referring to. There’s no chance you’re truly doing this to spite the Tories, or to contribute to the cause like a genuine patriot. Tell me about him, is he tall? Dashing?” She paused to giggle. “Has he got any exciting or tragic war stories?”

Yet again, her friend’s romanticism came out in the end, “He’s a captain in the army, he went to Yale. Kind of a hard ass if I’m being quite honest.”

“Yale?” Sally frowned, “So he’s a scholar, then? Is he from New Haven? I do have a friend there, Elizabeth Derry, she might know him or his family.”

“No, he’s actually from the town we’re heading to,” Rebecca admitted, “Which is how he knows the agents I’m to meet with.”

“So, a Setauket boy. Hmm. I knew a few in my time…” Sally thought hard, “What is his name?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you, Sally,” Rebecca said, “I can’t risk it.”

“But it’s just me!” Sally whined.

Rebecca shrugged, “Not even Robert knows about this.”

“Robert is a spoil sport.” Sally pouted.

Rebecca went to argue but gave up pretty quickly, to which they both laughed. It was sort of true.

“Fine,” Rebecca sighed eventually, “I’ll tell you one thing about him.”

“Do indulge me!”

She took a moment, trying to think of one thing about Ben she could tell Sally about that wouldn’t reveal too much. Obviously, there were many things to choose from, but Rebecca had to be careful. Nothing that would implicate him or make him stand out.

Perhaps a physical feature? Yes, that made sense, but not one too damning. Rebecca could feel blush creeping in as she remembered she had seen all of Ben, twice, and she tried to think of what she liked best. This was proving rather difficult. The gentle scratch of his stubble on her neck or the sound he made when she kissed him by surprise certainly were to be kept to her own thoughts. Eventually, she settled on something obvious, but not too revealing.

“He has blue eyes,” Rebecca said at last, “The bluest blue I’ve ever seen. You remember that book we read, the one we passed back and forth, where the writer talks about the ocean?” Sally nodded. “His eyes are the blue the writer described. I never thought I would see such a colour, yet in him I have.”

Sally sighed, “How marvellous. Imagine if your children have his eyes.”

Rebecca snorted, “Now  _that_  won’t be happening.”

“You never know, Rebecca, and you always sell yourself short when it comes to men. I’ve never understood it.”

“Have you seen me, Sally? I’m red as a barrel of apples!”

“No, you’re stunning!” Sally insisted, “You look like a Spanish beauty from one of the paintings at the Monroe house. You know, Billy and Jemima Monroe’s parents.”

“Perhaps you’re on to something. Maybe I should tell people that’s where I come from. If only to stifle the questions…”

“A lady always keeps her secrets for safeguarding,” Sally agreed, “And if it would stop prying eyes, I don’t see why not.”

Setauket was a pretty town, right on the water. The morning air had a chill, but a bit of uncharacteristic sun for the season accompanied it. Sally and Rebecca were both thankful for this as they arrived in the tiny settlement, hoping to locate the tavern easily. As they came towards a hill, a tiny white church sat atop it, as if it were the beacon welcoming them to safety.  


But as the two women drew closer, it proved to be quite the opposite.

Sally gasped, “What on earth happened to the gravestones?”

Rebecca frowned as they approached, “It appears they’ve been moved… at least some of them.”

“What in the name of…” Sally covered her mouth, “Rebecca, why?”

“I think they’ve turned the church into the garrison,” Rebecca said, unable to believe it herself, “At least by the looks of the cannons and the horses.” 

“What man could make such an awful decision?” Sally lamented.

“I’m not sure, but I think we should steer away from it,” Rebecca said, withdrawing a small handwritten note from her pack, “Captain Ta- err, the captain, he mentioned the tavern is straight down the hill in the middle of town.”

Not surprisingly, British soldiers were everywhere, patrolling the settlement on foot or standing guard. Neither of the girls were nervous, simply because Sally knew how to work her charms and Rebecca had, unbeknownst to Sally, killed a fair few of them in York City. She noticed a particularly grim looking officer standing by the church, an irritated expression on his face. She imagined this was not what he had in mind when he left England.

Ben’s town was quaint. Rebecca could imagine a gentle soul like him growing up here. Citizens wandered about their daily business, some interacting with the soldiers and others subtly avoiding them. The tavern itself stood close to where they tied their horses, and she found herself anxious to meet Anna Strong. 

“Good morning! And what might two beautiful ladies such as yourselves be doing in Setauket?”

Rebecca turned to see two British soldiers staring lustfully at herself and Sally. One appeared to be partially drunk. This didn’t surprise her. Setauket didn’t appear to need immediate defending. As if the rebels saw it as anything more than a lousy occupation.

“Well, good morning, gentlemen!” Sally replied, taking on her role with ease, “My cousin and I heard there might be land going up for sale soon, on account of some rebels who’ve fled town. Unfortunately our husbands are stuck with business at home, so I thought we’d take wonderful day to come see for ourselves. We came all the way from York City and Oyster Bay!”

“York City? Oyster Bay?” one of the men grinned, showing a tooth missing, “In’t Thanksgiving?”

“That was yesterday, Marcus.” the other redcoat grumbled.

“Um, we’re rather hungry, since the ride was long,” Rebecca added, “Which way is the closest tavern?”

“Only got one tavern,” the one called Marcus said, “Just over there.”

Sally curtsied, “Thank you, kind sirs.”

As they made their way to the Strong Tavern, Rebecca whispered, “You are too good at that.”

Sally smirked, “Please. Those two were easy.”

The tavern was rather empty since it was morning, but it smelled as if it were filled with men. A sea of redcoats and a collections of civilians likely normally crowded the place. Sally seemed to be having a sniff about while Rebecca searched for the dark-haired Anna. Both were keenly aware that the few men already there were watching them.

At last, she spotted her. Wiping her brow and then the wooden counter she stood up, Anna Strong looked tired. She was young, probably around Ben’s age, but certainly appeared worn out. Rebecca imagined the occupation had kept her busy, but she wondered why she didn’t have any family or a husband to help her out.

Then, breaking her curiosity, Rebecca was struck with a problem: Sally. She couldn’t leave her alone to go speak with Anna. That would not only be cruel but dangerous. She also couldn’t bring her to wherever she and the agent went to talk. Rebecca knew Ben wouldn’t want her involved, and she was not about to risk her friend’s life in this situation.

Just as her panic reached a high level, a solution appeared from nowhere.

“…Sally Townsend?”

“Hannah Langdon, is that you?”

The two women, clearly old friends, embraced as Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief.

Sally then remembered the plan, “Oh goodness, Rebecca, do you mind if I step out to talk with-”

“No no, that’s fine, please do!” Rebecca insisted, “In fact, how about you meet me by the horses in about two hours? That way you two can visit.”

“Yes, wonderful idea!” Sally was grinning from ear to ear. She was clearly the more social of the Townsend siblings.

With Sally gone, Rebecca approached Anna, her heart pounding in her chest. The woman had her back to her now, drying a few mugs with a rag. She seemed lost in thought.

Rebecca gently leaned on the counter, speaking in a low voice, “…is it true you get your ale from York City?”

Anna turned around slowly, her eyes widening as she took her in. The two women seemed to be evaluating each other as Anna replied, “Sorry, I’m afraid we haven’t had York ale since the spring of ‘73.”

Rebecca smiled a little, “That’s a shame.”

“But we do have another variety,” Anna said, “Come. Let me show you.”

Rebecca followed her outside. Anna’s long brown hair, perfectly spiralling around her face, swayed in the breeze. Rebecca wondered if her own hair might ever be able to look as beautiful and effortless. In silence, Anna opened the doors and they both stepped into the cellar of the tavern. It was filled with barrels of alcohol and other much needed supplies. Shutting the doors behind them, Anna turned and approached her.

“And here I thought Caleb was pulling my leg!” she broke into a big, beautiful smile, “A woman! Ben actually recruited a woman!”

“Well to be fair, I volunteered,” Rebecca admitted, “It is nice to meet you, Anna Strong.”

“You are worthy of our cause,” Anna replied, “And your name is… Rebecca?”

“Yes, Rebecca Starling,” she said, “I’m supposed to rendezvous with Abraham through you.”

“Indeed,” Anna nodded, “Seems Abe’s late. Not surprising.” She sat down on one of the steps. “May I be frank?”

“You may.”

“I’ve known Ben all my life, since we were children, and I’ve never known him to take to a woman. The man never had any sisters, or any interest in a lady here, that I know of. And you…”

Rebecca tried to move the conversation elsewhere, “I know that I don’t look like I’m from here.”

“Well, no, you don’t,” Anna admitted, “Caleb told me you were an Indian.”

She nodded, “By birth. But I was raised by the French and then an Englishman. The Seven Year’s War can account for that. It’s… rather complicated.”

“So what is your connection to the cause, then?” Anna asked.

Rebecca looked at the dirt floor, “Redcoats killed my real parents. And my adopted father. I don’t like how they treat people. I want them to leave.”

Anna nodded, “Rebecca… I am ever so pleased there is another woman in the ring. I mean that. But you must understand… when he told me about you, Caleb Brewster, he wasn’t very kind.”

“I know he doesn’t trust me,” Rebecca said, “Because I am an outsider. He made that clear when I went to camp to offer my services.”

“Wait, you actually went to the camp?” Anna was astonished, “All by yourself?”

Rebecca nodded.

She shook her head, “I wish I could have seen the looks on Ben and Caleb’s faces…”

There was a knock on the doors of the cellar. Anna stood up, “Go hide behind one of the barrels. I think it’s Abraham but I can’t be sure.”

Rebecca did as she was told, crouching behind the closest ale barrel. She heard Anna open the cellar doors, some conversation, and two sets of footsteps. Was she going to be caught?

“It’s all right, it’s Abe!” Anna’s voice announced, and Rebecca stood up.

A small man stood next to Anna, with beady eyes and a concerned (or perhaps upset?) look on his face. As she approached them, the man frowned at her, looking her up and down quickly before turning to Anna.

“Is this a joke?” he asked, “THAT is our man in New York?”

“Abraham…” Anna warned. So that was Abraham Woodhull, the one of Ben’s best friends from childhood. He was every bit the small town man.

“Mr. Woodhull,” Rebecca started, “My name is Rebecca Starling, and I operate a boarding house in York City.”

Abe rubbed his brow, “If this is Ben’s idea of a prank…”

“You’re being disrespectful, to both Rebecca AND Ben,” Anna said, “Please excuse Abraham. We’ve… it’s been a difficult time.”

“You mean the gravestones, and the church?” Rebecca asked, “Or what’s left of it. I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, that’s some of it,” Anna said quietly, “Abe’s brother Thomas, his was one of the first gravestones to fall for their cannons. My husband is on a prison ship for striking a British officer, although it may as well be a death sentence.”

“Why are you telling her that?” Abe snapped.

“She’s on our side! Caleb told me personally-”

“And what does he think about all this?” Abraham asked, “Is Caleb a supporter of Ben’s choice, here? If it  _was_  his choice, anyway…”

Anna rolled her eyes and went into the small pouch at her side, “Yes, and if you’re so concerned, here’s a letter from Ben himself.” She withdrew a folded paper and shoved it at him, to which Abe eagerly unfolded and read.

“… this… this is completely absurd. Does he think we’re desperate?”

“Well, yes, we sort of are!” Anna said firmly, “Now stop being so incredibly rude. Rebecca is here to help YOU, after all.”

“Help me? How?” Abe studied her, “By darning my socks?”

“Abraham!”

Rebecca swallowed, “Mr. Woodhull, I know I’m not what you expected…”

“No, no, certainly not,” Abe agreed, deciding to indulge her, “What are you… I mean, you say you’re from York City, but you certainly don’t look like you’re from New England at all…”

Rebecca sighed, tired of telling this story, “My parents were Indians. They were killed during a raid in the Seven Year’s War. I’ve lived with a few different families growing up.”

Abe crossed his arms, “So we’re to believe that you’re a patriot because you’ve conveniently got dead parents, then. Ben couldn’t have possibly fallen for this.”

Now Rebecca was irritated, “Mr. Woodhull. My parents were killed by the British and the French family that adopted me died of smallpox. The next was a privateer who was executed by the British as an ‘example,’ and the last were in Oyster Bay. Now if you’re satisfied with my backstory, can we get to the task at hand so Captain Tallmadge’s time in creating this meeting isn’t entirely wasted?”

Anna was impressed, “I agree.”

“How do you know Ben, anyway?” Abraham, still not satisfied, continued, “Have you even actually met him?”

“It’s… a long story. And I  _have_  met him.”

“Describe him.”

“Abe, you’re being ridiculous!” Anna scolded him.

“No, I want to see what she says.” Abe looked at her, rather smugly.

Rebecca, frustrated with this, chose not to think too hard as she spoke so as to picture Ben perfectly in her mind, “Ben Tallmadge is tall. Taller than all of us. Hair like spun gold, blue eyes like the sea. Habit of stuttering when nervous. Fond of Caleb Brewster, the two are often together and I suspect he’s fond of you two as well. Rather homesick, I believe, at least he seemed that way the brief moment he mentioned Setauket. Intelligent, attended Yale, thoroughly enjoys Cato. Probably can speak Greek and Latin. An excellent soldier, at least from what I’ve seen. Loyal to those and what he cares about. A rebel through and through.” She paused. “Is that enough for you, Mr. Woodhull?”

“Sounds like Ben,” Anna agreed, “Now, can we move on?”

Abe shrugged, “Fine. You do know him, and you were sent here. But I don’t understand why he would send you and not a man.”

Anna groaned, “Abraham, when we are already in the midst of-”

“Anna, it’s ok,” Rebecca insisted, focusing on Abe, “I’m sure Lieutenant Brewster was thinking and expressed the same thing. But you must understand that I, as a woman, am afforded the ability to be quite invisible in these circumstances. No one would suspect me. People like me are only just surviving in this world, let alone picking a side.” She paused. “To be honest, Ben was worried that since you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t agree to my involvement.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Abraham shrugged.  
  


“The thing is, I work at a boarding house in York City that is close enough to the Brooklyn Harbour, and is very much at the centre of the goings on,” she continued, “And from what Ben has told me, you make trips into the city from time to time.”

“Yes, with my father,” Abe continued, “We sell hogs to the British army.”

“Abraham’s father isn’t involved.” Anna added.

“Ben’s thinking was, the odd time you are not there or unable to enter the city, I can gather intelligence and transfer it to you via Oyster Bay.”

“Oyster Bay?” Abe frowned, “What’s in Oyster Bay?”

“The halfway point between York and Setauket, but also the home of… of my…” Rebecca groaned, “Oh, he’s going to positively kill me…”

“Who is?” Anna asked.

“I promised I wouldn’t involve him, and perhaps if I am honest here, I won’t,” Rebecca said aloud, mostly to herself, “The man who owns the boarding house, he wishes to remain neutral in this.”

“Neutral?” Abe looked at Anna, “Wait, he knows about this?”

“Not at all. That’s the problem, he has no idea I’ve agreed to it and would surely protest if he did. Not because he’s against the rebels, nor because he supports the King. He just… doesn’t want to get involved, in any way. He tries to live outside of the war, even though it’s all around us. To be quite honest his indifference frustrates me.”

“So, let’s get this straight. The man you work for-”

“With. I work  _with_  him.” 

“Right. The man you work with doesn’t know about this.”

“No,” Rebecca admitted, “And I want to ensure he isn’t involved. But what I was getting at, Mr. Woodhull, is the same family, the Townsends, live in Oyster Bay. And I could meet you at their homestead to transfer intelligence to you.” She paused. “Robert and his family are Quakers.”

“Ah.” Both Anna and Abe said in unison.

Anna nodded, “So once it is transferred to Abe and he confirms it, I signal to Caleb for pick up.”

“Exactly,” Rebecca looked to Abraham, “Do you agree?”

“I suppose it’ll work until I’m in York City again,” Abe said, “But how will you signal?”

“I was thinking I’d write a letter to the Rivington Gazette, which I’m sure you read,” she said, “This I have come up with myself. I will pen a ‘letter to the editor’ on a past article from the last issue, signed as a woman called Polly Baker. As soon as Polly’s name appears in that section, you can expect to ride for Oyster Bay.”

“And I will meet you for the transfer at the Townsend farm?” Abe asked for clarification.

“Exactly. Once it is signalled to Brewster by Anna, the intelligence will get to Captain Tallmadge.” Rebecca concluded.

Abraham took a deep breath, “I hope you know the importance of noting down the amount of militia, proper military and the like.”

“I do,” Rebecca insisted, “I’d have sent a report already, but Ben insisted I meet with you here first.”

“And we both thank you kindly for doing so,” Anna shoved Abraham, who forced a smile, “I will write to Ben to ensure we have both met with you. Abe, perhaps it is best if I escort Miss Starling out, and you follow a few minutes afterward so as not to stir suspicion.”

“Just one last question,” Abe said firmly, “How did Ben recruit you? Because I have an idea it wasn’t the same method he used on me.”

Rebecca nodded, “I was traveling when our paths crossed in New Jersey. He was the last remaining in his unit after an ambush and had a shoulder wound. I treated the injury.”

“And he asked you to spy for him on the spot?”

“On the contrary, Mr. Woodhull, I offered my services later,” she replied, “At first Captain Tallmadge refused, understandably so. But after some thought, he changed his mind. I’ve no idea if Washington knows about me or any of it. What I do know is that I am tired of this invasion, and I want to send the redcoats packing before they destroy anymore little towns like yours… or hang any more innocent people.”

Anna smiled at her. Abraham, finally satisfied, nodded, “Well, I hope Ben knows what he’s doing. I’ll keep an eye on the paper.”

“And if Mrs. Strong doesn’t mind, I’ll write the directions to the Townsend farm which she can pass on to you,” Rebecca said, to which Anna agreed, “Thank you, Mr. Woodhull.”

Anna and Rebecca exited the cellar, the chilly November air whooshing through. Knowing there were redcoats around, Rebecca nudged Anna and began a false conversation as she was led back into the tavern, talking about the nearby land and inquiring about types of crops and the harvest. Anna followed easily, and nobody suspected a thing.

“Come,” Anna gestured to her once they were back in the tavern, “Best to do this in the kitchen.”

Following Mrs. Strong, Rebecca reached into her pack for her paper, quill and ink. Anna cleared a spot on one of the tables so she could start writing. Grateful, Rebecca began to draw a small map and a list of directions for Abe.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of Abraham,” Anna said quietly after a few minutes, “But you and Ben… are you…?”

“Are we what?” Rebecca said, still focused on her map.

“Together,” Anna said.

Rebecca shook her head, “No, we’re not. What made you think so?”

“Just… the way you described him,” Anna said quietly, “I’ve never heard someone, especially a woman, refer to him as ‘golden-haired’ and with ‘blue eyes like the sea.’”

Rebecca didn’t look up from her map, “Is that not proper? I’ve admittedly not had much practice in that.”

Anna tilted her head, “No, it’s just a bit concerning that you didn’t say ‘blonde’ or just ‘blue eyes’, like I would have. Since I harbour no romantic feelings for a man who may as well be my brother.” She paused. “Ben would be lucky to have a woman like you, Rebecca. You’ve the heart of a lion.”

“The heart of a lion?” Rebecca laughed.

“Well certainly. You came all the way here, to a town you don’t know, to meet two people who could have killed you, for all you knew. How could you know it wasn’t a trap?”

Anna did make a point. “Because I trust Captain Tallmadge.”

“Mmm,” Anna leaned on the table, “Did you know the church was his father’s?”

“It was?”

“Indeed,” Anna said quietly, “Nathaniel Tallmadge was the town’s reverend. He gave many sermons in that little church, most of which Ben attended until he went away to school. The day the redcoats showed up and turned it into a garrison was one of the darkest. Of course, Judge Woodhull did nothing about it, and would sooner shine their boots himself if they asked him to.”

“Judge Woodhull?”

“Abraham’s father,” Anna said, “A Loyalist, and a coward if you ask me.”

Anna’s words were understandably bitter, but Rebecca was curious, “Does Ben know about the church?”

She nodded, “He likely does now, thanks to Caleb. I told him all about it when he returned several weeks ago. Thick as thieves, those two.”

“He must worry about his father, then,” Rebecca said, “Ben is the anxious type, you can tell by how he carries himself…”

Anna frowned, “Either you’re very observant, or I’m daft.”

Rebecca scoffed, “Mrs. Strong, I’m just saying what comes to mind, and you are clearly of a sound one.”

“Are you so afraid of my finding out, then?”

“Finding out what?”

“That you’re sweet on him,” Anna was smiling from ear to ear, “Because you’re blushing, and you won’t look at me.”

“I’m not!” Rebecca said, laughing as she looked up from her finished map, “And even if I was, what chance might I have? I’ve nothing to my name. No parents, dark skin, and he’s…”

“He’s what?”

“I don’t know, everything. Educated, high ranking, and…”

“And?”

“…handsome.” Rebecca admitted.

“I’ve known Ben since we were very young, Rebecca, and when he wants something, he goes after it,” Anna said, still grinning, “Sometimes recklessly. Truth be told I’ve been hoping he might find a girl soon. Would allow him to garner some understanding of the female sex. God knows he needs it.”

“I doubt there will be any ‘going after’ anything except procuring intelligence,” Rebecca said, “For either of us.”

“And if there was?” Anna asked, “What if he did, in fact, pursue you?”

“Then I would have to deal with it when it happens.” Rebecca said firmly, her face so red she wanted to slip away and disappear forever.

“Well, I will leave you to it, then,” Anna said, still smiling her radiant smile, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Rebecca finished the directions and set them aside for Abe. She chose to take the time to write Ben a report, as she had mentioned. Although, since she knew it was for his eyes only, she chose to add a little bit of personalization to it. Just enough to let him know she was thinking of him.

She knew pursuing anything with Benjamin Tallmadge was impossible. He was an educated white man and she was a parentless Indian woman faking an engagement to a homosexual Quaker. The concept of it was ridiculous on its own. Still, after the joy he’d brought her that night (and morning) in New Jersey, Rebecca secretly hoped she could be near him again.

Once it was all finished, Rebecca handed over the notes for Abe and letter for Ben, which would be sent to him via Caleb. Anna happily walked her out of the tavern and over to Sally, who seemed just as pleased. They exchanged friendly words regarding Setauket’s climate and farming, all of which were said just for the eavesdroppers around them, which in a small town were many. The goal achieved, Rebecca and Sally both got on their horses, saying goodbye to Anna and thanking her for her “help”.

Rebecca looked back at Anna and they exchanged knowing smiles. Two women, in a world of men, who might just make a difference in the dangerous game of war. Rebecca admired her, operating the tavern and home by herself as her husband was locked away against his will. And Anna was in awe of Rebecca, clearly smitten with Ben, and whom she felt was a worthy equal of the reckless Tallmadge boy she’d grown up with.  
  


– 

**That evening**

Caleb arrived back at camp and found Ben easily, still seated at his desk and working away at reports. The man never seemed to run out of them. He thought it better than to tell his friend he looked like utter shite and should get some sleep.

Ben stood up as soon as Caleb walked in, “Did she manage it?”

“Dunno how, but she did, and I reckon she’s a hard sell on Woody,” Caleb admitted, “The poor man thought ye were playing a prank on him.”

“Well, that’s to be expected, but they met, and that’s what matters,” Ben confirmed, “Did Abe write a report confirming it?”

“Aye,” Caleb handed him the folded note, which Ben opened and started to read, “Annie’s pleased with her, o’ course.”

“Yes, she would be,” Ben said, eyes widening at the words on the paper, “Rebecca drew him a map AND directions to the meeting place in Oyster Bay. I’m impressed.”

“Gotta see if the map n’ directions actually work, though.” Caleb said.

Ben nodded in agreement, “Thank you, Caleb. I know you have your doubts, but trust me in this.”

“Well, it’s all set now anyway, ye lucky bastard,” Caleb said, “Hopefully Georgie likes it.” He reached into his jacket. “Also, your woman in red wrote you a love letter, I suspect.”

Ben took the folded parchment from Caleb, giving him a look, “It’s a report, Caleb.”

“Sure it is.” Caleb grinned at him, patting his arm before scampering off likely to practice axe throwing. As if he needed to.

Ben decided to read it in private. Sitting down on his cot, he unfolded what he thought was an intelligence report and received a summary of events… and something else.

_Dear Ben,_

_I hope you don’t mind me addressing you like this._

_There are a few things I thought you should know, since I visited Setauket today. Anna Strong is a kind and resourceful woman, and a friend you should be thankful for. Abraham Woodhull is not fond of me but I am not bothered. For the cause we will work together. If needed, he will stay at the boarding house I work at in York City when he visits next._

Right. This was good news. Ben figured Abe would be hesitant, but there was hope that Anna would persuade him to warm up to it all.

_I learned that your father’s church is the garrison now, and that they have removed many of the gravestones for cannons. Anna noted Abraham’s brother’s was one of the first to fall. Both he and Anna look exhausted by it all. I imagine this must hurt you to read, and you should know that is not my intention._

Ben could feel her warmth in the words, despite how it did pain him to get another confirmation about the destruction of his father’s churchyard. He wished he was back in the cabin in Jersey with her the morning. It was becoming the place he went when it all became too much.

_The signal we agreed upon will appear in the Rivington Gazette as a letter to the editor. It will be signed with the name Polly Baker. Whenever I am ready to pass something on to Abe, I will ensure the letter is in the Gazette and then ride for Oyster Bay, where we will meet at a secure location._

Also good news.

_Your friends are good people of which you should be proud. There is a glimmer of hope within you all. The King has made strikes against all of us, and for that I believe we are fortunate in our kindred misery. Mrs. Strong told me her husband is on the Jersey, I gather, and Abraham’s father is a prompt Loyalist. I suppose we must bear our crosses, as they say._

_Lastly, I hope your shoulder is healing properly, and that you have not come upon any more trouble. Make sure you are checking on it routinely day and night. The last thing you need is an infection getting you down. Unfortunately I will not always be there to save you, dear Captain, so my advice will have to do until we hopefully meet again._

_Fondly,_

_Rebecca_  
  
P.S. Wherever this journey may take me, I confess I think of happiness when I look to New Jersey. I hope such happiness might occur again.

Ben felt a shiver down his spine at her final words. She thought of that night, which was only a few days ago now, with possibly just as much fondness as he did. Or maybe, a little fondness? Ben wasn’t sure, but he cherished it anyway.

He wondered when he might see her again, and if that time would possibly allow more swapping stories and reckless lovemaking. Yes, she was one of his agents, but the man within him desperately wanted the chance to sleep with her again. Ben was becoming aroused at the thought of her, eyes wild with passion as she told him about her favourite books and poems. Yawning, he set the letter down and removed his boots to get more comfortable. It was getting late, after all.

Admittedly, he went back to the cabin in Jersey when he was trying to fall asleep, remembering the feeling of her soft skin as he held on to her. That and other things. The way she swiftly and fearlessly attacked the would-be burglars, leading him to the soft haven that would be that night. There were no chest pains or uneasy feelings. Only pleasure.

The way he’d heard about sex from other boys growing up made it sound so different from how it actually was. Caleb, who was more experienced in every way except institutionalized education, bragged about his encounters. Telling Ben glorious (and gruesome) details about sleeping with various women, which made the act sound like a self-gratifying thing. And perhaps it could be in some cases. But for him it wasn’t.

Of course Ben thought it felt wonderful. It was much better than taking care of it himself. But there was a part of it he hadn’t expected or heard about, which was the experience of seeing his partner enjoying it as well. If anything that made it even better. The visions of her body, which he tried to memorize for these solitary moments, were nothing compared to the moment they shared at the end.

Caleb explained how to tell if a girl was “faking it” and insisted it “didn’t really matter once it was all over anyways,” but Ben knew Rebecca hadn’t. She was simply not the type to do something like that. If she was unhappy, she told him, and was unafraid of his reaction. Besides, Ben was positive he felt her, from within, climaxing just before he did the first time. The second, she’d said- no, she actually moaned- his name. And that was enough to send him over the edge.

Ben groaned. He now had a full hard on. Time to put the letter away, and try to get some sleep.


	8. Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca pays homage to her privateer father. Ben awakens after surviving the Delaware plunge to a surprise visit. Caleb learns some truths about Rebecca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> TW: Death by fire mention, sexual assault mention, short execution description
> 
> Changes: Though on the show, John Graves Simcoe says his father was stationed in India, I am going by the reality of him actually being in the British Navy. However, I allow him to be present in the colonies during the Seven Year’s War/French and Indian War.

**December 27, 1776**

Christmas at Samuel Townsend’s farm was glorious. At least, to Rebecca it was. She was certain she’d never seen such beautiful decorations, a banquet of a table and warmth in one home. She was pleased to be in the company of good people once again, if only for a few days.

But she had something to do. For once it had little to do with her personal mission, or the one she had for Captain Tallmadge. Intelligence was slow, the army was busy celebrating the epiphany, and little could be said that she hadn’t already sent to Ben. 

Abe had said to her two weeks prior after her first (and so far only) signal that he’d already told them about the Hessians, something she thought was a big discovery. Nothing had been said about Charles Lee, and she couldn’t locate or find word of Major Andre anywhere. Not that she even knew what he looked like. As for the army numbers and locations, Abe confirmed they were still the same as his report. She had nothing to offer.

The new year would like give something, but until then, she had time to focus on herself. Rather, she had time to focus on her yearly Christmas tradition. One she had formed alone, and executed alone. It was not (completely) dangerous, and somehow lifted the pain she carried with her just a little.

The only problem was that she was still at the Townsend farm, and Robert, who unfortunately gave in to his father’s badgering and said an engagement was imminent, was demanding to know why she was rushing off two days after Christmas. As the fire roared in the bedroom she was given for the stay (since she and Robert were unmarried, they stayed in separate rooms; a relief to them both), Rebecca was packing up for the trip as Robert demanded to know what was going on. This time, he was more resilient than usual.

“So you’re not telling me where you’re going, then?” Robert asked as Rebecca hunted through her pack for her warmer gloves, “Is this to be a theme?”

“Robert,” Rebecca said quietly, “You would think me mad if I told you.”

“Well, you won’t tell me, so we can’t ever assume I’d think anything!”

“Is something wrong?”

They both looked up to see Samuel and Sally both standing in the doorway, looking worried. Rebecca’s heart ached. Already she hated keeping secrets from these dear friends, who were becoming like family.

Rebecca sighed. Perhaps this one she could actually tell.

“I… have a Christmas tradition. One I’ve kept for the past few years. I fear you would all think it silly.”

Sally stepped into the room and sat on Rebecca’s bed, “Traditions aren’t silly, Rebecca. Do tell us.”

“… before I came to Oyster Bay, I was adopted by a kind man whom I consider my father,” she said quietly, “I know the Hills told people I was rescued from a gangly set of privateers, but the truth is those privateers were good people, and somehow were caught by the British… and my father, their captain, was executed to set an example. That is the real manner in which I arrived in Oyster Bay.”

“Privateers?” Samuel echoed.

“You mean, like pirates?” Sally’s eyes were wide with excitement.

“No, privateers have  _honour_ , Sally… they had buyers on Long Island, in New Jersey and New York,” Rebecca explained, “He taught me to love reading, how to protect myself should I need it… and his death is easily the most regretful day of my life. I was, well, we  _think_  I was thirteen, and…” Rebecca swallowed.

“You are setting out to visit his grave,” Robert said quietly, “Something you wish to do privately.”

“Yes,” Rebecca frowned, “How did you know?”

“We visit my wife on her birthday every year, it is not an unusual sentiment,” Samuel explained, “Did he pass around Christmas?”

“No, he died after that, in January. But Christmas was his favourite time of year.” Rebecca explained.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Robert’s. She put hers over his.

“Where is he buried?” Sally asked, “Perhaps we might go with you.”

“… his body was disposed of somewhere, but I don’t know the location,” Rebecca admitted, “So I visit the tree.”

“The tree?” Sally wondered.

“… where they hanged him,” Robert finished, feeling the brutality of the words in his mouth, “God almighty…”

“And where is this tree?” Samuel continued. He was clearly very worried about his future daughter-in-law.

“Jersey,” Rebecca said, “It is not a difficult journey. Though it is cold, I have made it several times with no trouble.”

“Well, Robert can escort you,” Samuel said, “I simply cannot allow you to go out in this cold, alone, and so far!”

“I agree,” Robert said, “Allow me to fetch my gloves and feed the horses.”

Rebecca was in no position to argue with either of them. After all, this was Samuel’s home, and she was a guest (and a grateful one at that). She felt defeated.

“And make sure you are both home tomorrow.” Samuel concluded, pleased as he patted Robert’s shoulder as he passed him, en route to the barn.

Sally stood up, “I will pack a lunch for you. We have some wonderful leftovers from yesterday, and I know there is freshly baked bread!”

“Splendid,” Samuel beamed at his daughter, “I hope Zachariah returns within the hour so he might at least see you off.” His son-in-law was out procuring more firewood, as they had unfortunately come closer to running out than Samuel expected.

Rebecca nodded in agreement. She didn’t want Robert to see the tree, or anyone for that matter. Even though he was close to her, Rebecca was protective of this painful part of her life. She wished there was a different way of going about it, but it seemed this was the only option.

–

Robert sat next to her on the cart, looking out at the cold, icy hills of New England. He hadn’t said much on the journey, although they’d only been traveling for about an hour. She enjoyed the silence, but the tension built the further they went, and that was something she was not fond of.

“So,” Robert said finally, as if reading her mind, “Where should I leave you?”

Rebecca was confused, “Leave me?”

“I understand you would much rather me not accompany you to your tree, if that is where you are actually going,” Robert said a-matter-of-factly, “So, where should I leave you? Which town should I stop in, so I might allow you a horse and I might spend the night in a proper tavern and boarding house?”

“Robert…” Rebecca said, “I don’t understand. Why are you allowing me to continue alone?”

“Well, it’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“It is…”

“I believe we could make a deal,” Robert said, “Since my father is already suspicious of our upcoming union…”

Ah, there it was. Robert was not without his motivations, although she wondered if he was only saying that so as not to come off uncaring. Rebecca knew he worried about her.

“You want me to be more convincing, in exchange for you letting me do this alone,” Rebecca said, and he nodded, “But is that what you truly want, Robert?”

“I want my father to be happy, and for you to be safe.” Robert said, uncharacteristically frank.

“I wish you wouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for others,” Rebecca said with a sigh, “Especially when it comes to your father.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Robert smirked a little at her, “You make me look so noble, future  _wife_  of mine.”

“Oh stop it,” Rebecca rolled her eyes, but followed up with a smile, “I suppose since we are close enough, Hempsted would make the most sense.”

“That’s good and well for me, but what about you?” Robert asked, “When you get stopped, inevitably, what is your cover?”

“Fair question,” she said plainly, “I’m visiting my sick mother, and taking her some food in the winter. She’s quite elderly, and a widow. Traveling without my husband because he too is rather ill.”

Robert raised his eyebrows, “It is unsettling how good you are at that.” They both laughed. “But do promise me, you’ll return to Hempsted by tomorrow night?”

Rebecca nodded, “I promise. If I’m not there within a few days, you have my permission to worry.” And she meant it.

“I’m trusting you, with whatever it is you’re doing, to return to us safely,” Robert said, “You must know how it would devastate any of us if something were to happen.”

Rebecca reached for his hand and grasped it tightly, “I will be there, Robert.” She felt him squeeze back, their gloved hands wrapped together as a signal of trust and friendship to the other. Of all the things she’d seen, Rebecca found comfort in knowing Robert’s devotion was unchanging, and she hoped she could offer him the same.

After they parted at Hempsted, Rebecca rode for York City. She passed through the town and on to the Brooklyn crossing. From there, she entered New Jersey, hoping to make it to Trenton by late evening. She moved quickly, since she was on her own, but it was still a long path. 

Trenton was crawling with redcoats, but she was luckily armed with more than just her hidden weapons. She wore Sally’s Loyalist brooch on her cloak, a symbol of protection should she encounter any of the British. As the night began to fall, Rebecca chose to rest in a small clearing in the forest, starting to prepare a small fire.

A winter breeze began to surround her, to which Rebecca ignored, continuing to set the fire. It started as just a chill, but quickly grew into a wind, snuffing out the tiny flame she had created. Sighing, Rebecca went back to clipping her axe with a stone, watching the spark and waiting for it to ignite. 

That was when she heard her name.

_“Rebecca…”_

She sat up, looking around. There was no one there. Perhaps she’d imagined it? Rolling her shoulders back, Rebecca went back to the pile of sticks, knowing if she wasn’t quick that the evening would sneak up on her before she knew it. 

_“Rebecca…”_

Again, she stood up, this time withdrawing a pistol from her pack. Rebecca turned in every direction, demanding to know who was there. She examined her camp, and found again, that she was alone.

This time, the breeze was so strong it knocked her backward. Rebecca toppled onto the cold ground, almost dropping her pistol. A bright light accompanied the wind, so bright that she had to shield her eyes as she tried to look at it. It wasn’t the sun, for it was setting behind her. It was coming from something else.

A human form was within this light, which was starting to fade as her eyes adjusted. Rebecca squinted, trying to make out what she was looking at, and after several seconds she realized it was a man. The light slowly went away, leaving this person standing before her in a sort of glow.

He wasn’t a large man. His features were obscured, but she could tell he had pale blonde hair and was dressed in plain clothes. Hastily, she pointed her gun at him, demanding he leave or else she would shoot. The man wasn’t bothered by her threats.

Rebecca watched as he raised his arm, pointing to something behind her. 

_“Go to him…”_

She looked back, but there was nothing there. Rebecca turned to face the man, but he’d vanished. She searched the area, desperately trying to find him, but he had disappeared into thin air. As if he was never there in the first place.

Rebecca wondered if she was going crazy. It had been a long day, after all, but there was nothing she could do to rationalize what she’d seen. She remembered Samuel telling her about “angels” that sometimes visited the living, to give direction or bring good tidings. Was it possible she’d just seen one?

As she went to put her pistol away, Rebecca noticed smoke rising from the direction in which the figure had pointed. A fresh fire, and one that was close. If it were redcoats, she’d have heard their commotion. There was an overwhelming feeling of safety, which to her didn’t make much sense, but that was what it was. Something was telling her to go towards the rising smoke, and find the “him” the figure spoke of. 

So she did.

–--

Caleb Brewster’s brain was on overdrive as he began to skin the rabbit he caught earlier in the day, and it was through this that he realized he was genuinely scared, for one of the few times in his life. It had been two days since the crossing and Ben still wasn’t waking up, although he was breathing (rather shallowly). Fear of him slipping away in the night made it impossible to sleep, as well as the chance of them being discovered by redcoats meant that Caleb was always awake. 

What would he do if Ben actually died while they were there? Caleb shuddered at the thought, but he knew he had to make a plan. Ben was always armed with one, so Caleb learned how to do the same. If the good Lord above decided mercy wasn’t in the cards for him, Caleb figured he would find a way to get him to Trenton and subsequently to a burial ground. No, not a burial ground- Ben would be in Setauket, next to his mother.

Why was he thinking about this? Hypothermia didn’t always mean death, although the few times he’d seen it in Greenland, the men actually did die. That was due to negligence, though, and Caleb hadn’t been negligent- had he? Now he was questioning everything, and wondered if moving Ben would have been the smarter idea in the end. He tried to imagine what Nathaniel would say or how he might react, seeing as his only remaining son was Ben (Samuel was as good as dead on the Jersey).

A rustling in the trees caught his attention. He stood up, armed with a large, loaded pistol. Squinting, Caleb couldn’t see anyone or anything, but the sound of crackling leaves continued. He cocked it and waited, ready to blow the hidden intruder to high heaven.

“Lieutenant Brewster?”

Rebecca Starling was just as shocked to see him as he was to see her. 

“What the hell are yew doin’ out here?” Caleb demanded, not lowering the gun.

“Put your weapon down and I might tell you,” Rebecca said, stepping out of the brush, “Shouldn’t you be with the camp? As I recall it was far away from- oh dear God in heaven.” She looked down and saw Ben, wrapped in a shrewd blanket, and looking pale as a ghost.

“What happened?” she asked, kneeling next to him.

“Don’t touch him, I’ve got this sorted,” Caleb said firmly, putting his gun down, “Eh…fell in the river.”

“What on earth was he doing in the river?” Rebecca asked, placing the back of her hand on Ben’s cheek and forehead. He was warm, but not like he usually was.

“We were crossin’ it.”

Rebecca looked at him incredulously, “Cross…crossing the Delaware. In the middle of winter.”

“On Christmas Day, as it would happen,” Caleb said, “Benny boy went after the swivel gun and…well, yew know how icy water is to the body. Or maybe ya don’t, I dunno yew.”

“You might if you change your tone, we’re on the same side,” Rebecca said firmly, “Has he been eating?”

“Not much,” Caleb admitted, “Was about to cook some rabbit before yew can stompin’ in. Sides that, we’ve got rations left.”

“Well,” Rebecca reached into her pack, “I’ve got the makings for stew, which would do well with the rabbit. And fresh bread. You both ought to have a good meal, but especially him, in his condition. Rations won’t do that.”

“What’re yew doin’ out here anyway, lass?” Caleb asked, “Thought ya were in York City.”

“Usually I am,” she said, unpacking the food, “But I make a trip around Christmas out here.”

“Family?”

She sighed, “Sort of. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve the time if you’re willing,” Caleb offered as Rebecca took the pot she’d been carrying and began to fill it, “Won’t be going nowheres tonight.”

“The only reason you’re not running me out of here is because Captain Tallmadge would be displeased if you did so, is that correct?” Rebecca asked him.

Caleb shrugged, “Spose so. But I don’t listen to him as much as I should.”

Rebecca laughed a little, “You’re a strange one.”

“Speak for yerself!” Caleb said, “I ain’t never seen a woman travel alone as yew do. Bit dangerous.”

“Not if you know how to defend yourself,” she said, “Now then, about why I’m out here…you know about Charles Morgan, the man who adopted me, from the last time we met.”

“Aye,” Caleb said, “That reminds me. Talked to a few privateer pals ‘o mine. Seems a few knew Charlie, and they did say he kept a daughter around for a time. Fella was ne’er married but always wanted ta raise a family. Real strange, but yer story checks out.”

“It should, it’s the truth,” Rebecca said, “And have you relayed your findings to Captain Tallmadge?”

“Nah,” Caleb waved his hand, “That was fer me. Still not sure if I trust ye, though.”

“Mmm,” she smiled a little, “So you’ve done your research. I trust that means know that Charles Morgan was hanged, then?”

Caleb nodded.

“I remember the day like it was yesterday,” she continued, “I think I was about thirteen. Or something like that. Those lobster-backs, they came in like a swarm out of seemingly nowhere.”

“Always do when they’re on a raid.” Caleb said bitterly.

“There was one that was leading them, a captain,” Rebecca said, finishing putting the vegetables in the pot, “He had a sort of arrogance about him. He looked down on us, especially me. Said something like, ‘What on earth is a little girl doing with this filth?’”

“Ta be fair, lass, a group ‘o privateers is the last place ya’d expect to find a lady.” Caleb commented.

“I wasn’t a  _lady_  then, I was a child,” she corrected him, “And at that time I’d already witnessed death. I recall the smell of burning flesh when the village was destroyed, and I watched my Maman- sorry, the French woman was raised me for a time- die from that dreadful disease. But I wasn’t prepared for this.”

Caleb was listening intently, but still kept the pistol nearby.

“The captain took one of our ropes that we were selling and had them make a noose by a nearby tree,” Rebecca said, “And he went on some big, dramatic speech about the importance of the law in the King’s colonies. How we were offending King George, God Himself and that they were going to ‘make an example’ of someone to teach us a lesson about respect. They asked who was in charge, and Papa- sorry, Charles- naturally stepped forward.”

“…and into the noose.” Caleb said quietly, watching the fire dance.

“Paddy Simpleton tried to hide me from it, seeing as I was just a child,” she said, her voice shaking a little as she stirred the contents of the pot, “But Captain Simcoe wouldn’t allow it.”

Caleb looked up at her.

“The bastard made me watch as they murdered my father,” she said, gritting her teeth, “Tore me away from Paddy and held my head in the direction of the tree as they did it. ‘Let her see what happens to lawbreakers in His Majesty’s colonies,’ he said.”

Brewster just stared at her in disbelief. 

“I don’t know what they did with his body, but I know the tree is close to Trenton, so I visit there every Christmas. Papa adored Christmas. I visit the tree, give my love to him, and I promise that one day I will track down Simcoe… and  _kill_  him.”

A sudden rough, dry coughing from Ben interrupted the story. Rebecca covered the pot as Caleb rushed to Ben’s side.

“Look who’s finally awake!” Caleb exclaimed joyfully, “Good to see ya, Tall Boy!”

Ben looked around in obvious confusion, “Where…where are we?” He grimaced. His throat felt like it was filled with nails.

“Jersey,” Caleb replied, “Ye took a tumble into ‘ol Delaware, and she bit ya somethin’ nasty.”

“I…what?” Ben tried to get up, and Rebecca appeared next to Caleb to push him down.

“No, don’t move, you still need rest,” she insisted, to which Ben listened and laid back down, “Caleb, he shouldn’t have exposed shoulders…”

“Hey, I did what I could at the time!” Caleb protested as Rebecca removed her own scarf to wrap around Ben.

All the while, Ben stared at Rebecca in a sort of delirious disbelief. He couldn’t believe it was her. Was he dreaming? Had to be. Any minute now he would wake up in his cot, report to his superior and begin filing reports. Or perhaps he’d fallen asleep while scouting with his Dragoons. If that were the case, he’d better wake up fast or else face retribution.

“He likely doesn’t have the strength to eat on his own yet, so I will take care of that,” Rebecca was saying to Caleb as she covered him in the scarf, warm with heat from her own body, “I’ve taken care of sick people before.”

As she went to again take his temperature, Ben reached out and grasped her wrist. He held it there, trying to keep her soft, warm hand against his face. In his sickly state, Rebecca recognized that he was in a state of fear and delirium. She felt sympathetic.

“Lieutenant Brewster,” she said quietly, “With your permission I would like to remain in your camp for the night, if only to keep an eye on Captain Tallmadge and monitor his condition.” She paused. “You are free to refuse this.”

“I mean, if ye poison us with the stew or try to kill either one or both Benny boy an’ me, I know the Continentals will hang ye,” Caleb said nonchalantly as he stood up, “I’m off to take a piss, if ya do anything, ya know the trouble.” 

Rebecca took this as a yes, turning her attention to Ben. His face looked a bit sullen and he was white as a sheet, but his eyes remained still so bright and blue. There was a yearning in them that she remembered seeing when he said goodbye to her the last time. She missed those eyes.

“What….are you doing here?” Ben asked slowly, wincing.

Rebecca hushed him, “I was passing through and came upon the camp. Caleb tells me you’ve had quite an ordeal. Why is it that every time I see you, you’re in some sort of trouble? Will I always have to rescue you, Captain Tallmadge?”

Ben smiled a little, “…maybe you should stay.”

She returned the gentle smile, “What, to protect you from Queen’s Rangers, bandits and now the elements?”

“Mmm…” Ben closed his eyes, leaning in to her touch.

“I’ll be staying tonight, so you don’t need to worry about that. Brewster’s told me you’ve been here since Christmas-”

“Should’ve kissed you.” Ben said abruptly, eyes still closed and enjoying the comfort of her hand.

“…what?”

“In Jersey,” Ben said, his voice scratchy, “When… we parted… I wanted to kiss you…and I didn’t…”

“Suppose it would have been improper.” Rebecca said, entertaining this so as to keep him calm, although she could feel herself starting to blush.

“After what we did in that bed?” Ben looked up at her with a lazy grin, “No, no…” He watched her for a few moments. “… do you regret… that?”

“Of course not,” Rebecca said, and she meant it, “I think of it often.”

“As do I…” Ben said, closing his eyes again, “Over… and over… and over…”

“You are delirious, Captain,” Rebecca said, “But after your swim in the icy waters, I suppose anyone would be.” She looked up at his dark blue jacket with its shining silver epaulettes, hanging on the makeshift shelter along with the rest of his clothes. “You are fortunate to have such a good friend to rescue you.”

“I’m… not a good friend.” Ben said, with a firmness Rebecca didn’t quite understand.

“I wasn’t there… to protect him…” Ben continued, frowning, “No one was…”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked.

“Nathan Hale,” Caleb said, apparently having stood nearby long enough to catch that part of the conversation, “Was a good friend of Ben’s during the Yale days.”

“… the young man that they hanged in September, just before Washington left the city,” Rebecca said quietly, “Yes, I recall that well.”

“People… good men…  _young_  men. They’re dead,” Ben groaned, “… Queen’s Rangers.”

“Hey, that’s not yer fault, I keep tellin’ ya,” Caleb said, checking on the stew, “Tall Boy, ya can’t take the blame fer everythin’.”

Caleb sighed. He looked tired, Rebecca noted. 

“You didn’t actually leave, did you?”

“Nope,” Caleb said, “Stood just over there, kept an eye.”

“And what have you gathered?” Rebecca asked, stroking Ben’s cheek with her thumb in an effort to try to get him to sleep, “Am I still not to be trusted?”

“Well, now I know why Benny boy wants ya in the ring so bad,” Caleb said, “York City ain’t got nothin’ ta do with it.”

“Please,” Rebecca scoffed, “If he wanted a woman to get in bed with, he could do that easily.”

Caleb laughed, “Ya really don’t know ‘em like I do. Benny boy’s still got his cherry. Or  _he did_ , ‘til ‘Jersey’ with you, apparently.“

Rebecca, obviously not being aware of this fact, could feel her face turning a deep red. That did explain his nervousness and why he trembled so much. Or maybe there was another reason for that.

“I suppose you think me a common whore, then.”

Caleb shrugged, “I’ve known a few ‘common whores’ in my time, lass. Not bad company.”

“I never understood why a woman ought to be shamed if she laid with a man before marriage,” she said, “Men do it all the time.”

“’Spose this may offend, but ya don’t strike me as the marryin’ type.”

Rebecca smirked, “Is it the Indian in me or the fact that I’m out here alone with two bachelors?” She ran a hand through Ben’s hair, hoping not to stir him. “No well-respected man would marry a woman with no parents, let alone an integrated Indian. Saw no reason to ‘save myself’ once I realized that fact.”

Caleb nodded, “In the America we’re fightin’ fer, least the one I see, ain’t no reason for them old rules.”

Rebecca appreciated the sentiment, but knew there was still a tension between them. It was something she had wanted to address. If she was going to continue to work with them both, she wanted to ensure they were on the same page.

“I know you don’t trust me, Lieutenant, and I’ve given you no reason to,” Rebecca said, “Hell, even Abraham Woodhull wanted to throw me out before I even said a word to him. But I want to somehow earn that trust, for the sake of the ring. I’ve already told you my story, and I don’t need yours, but there has to be some way I can get through this frigidness so we can work together.”

Caleb seemed to be thinking it over. He was admittedly rather impressed by the proposition, although he thought her involvement was quite silly. Still, they had Anna, so maybe Rebecca could offer the boarding house to Abe in a similar fashion of using her status as a female to help hide them. It was worth a shot.

“Benny boy joined up after Hale, and I followed him,” Caleb began, “It’s always somethin’ that brings us to it. What made ya want to offer yer service? Well, service as well as a woman can offer, anyway. An’ I don’t mean that business with yer privateer father.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, “I was on the run, looking for a place to land. I kept seeing more redcoats and hearing about them landing in port cities. When I came through a small village in Connecticut, I saw smoke coming from the surrounding farms. So I decided to go by to see what was happening, due to my own curiosity.”

She looked down, pleased to see Ben was asleep, and continued to gently run her fingers along his golden hair. Caleb noted her gentleness with him. 

“When the redcoats came through, they were going to be stationed at these houses, and the owners of some of the homes fought back. Patriots, of course. In most cases, the ones who refuse end up on the prison ships or hanged, but this group decided to burn the houses. I came upon them as one woman was screaming that it was all she had, and they  _laughed_  at her. Said something like, ‘You’d not have this problem if you didn’t marry a dirty rebel!’ They destroyed her home, her barn and animals. Things she needed to survive. And to top it off, one of the officers assaulted her on the property in front of the others…”

Caleb stared into the fire, “Bastards…”

“I’ve read accounts of their atrocities, of how they storm in and take whatever they like, and I’ve had enough,” Rebecca said, “And my anger grew when I went to Setauket. I saw your church, and the gravestones they desecrated… not even the dead are spared from the King’s men. The sooner your home and places like it are saved, the better.”

The stew began to boil over. Caleb, who was closer, took a quick look and was visibly pleased, “Not had a meal like this in ages…”

Rebecca figured that was as close to a ‘thank you’ as she was going to get. She wondered if he was satisfied with her answer, but then decided that didn’t matter. Worst case scenario, she knew she could outsmart and outgun Brewster. But she still hoped she wouldn’t have to.

They woke Ben for food, but he insisted on eating on his own when Rebecca offered to help. The atmosphere was rather awkward, although Caleb and Rebecca took turns keeping an eye on Ben, who was shaking a bit while he ate. Each had their own concerns during.

Caleb, of course, wanted to be proud of Ben for finally managing to lose his virginity, but his leeriness regarding Rebecca made this troublesome. On one hand, his best friend was finally a man, but on the other, it was the mysterious woman who kept appearing from nowhere. It was all rather suspicious. He worried she might use that to manipulate Tallmadge, who for all his experience in New Haven, was still youthful.

Ben was in a haze. His body felt like absolute hell, cold and achey, as though he’d plunged into several Delawares. Although, the stew was wonderful, and warmed him as it went down. It felt like heaven on his aching throat. Ben was still very confused as to why Rebecca was there, but at the same time he was pleased to be near her again.

Rebecca was caught in a storm between the two men. She desperately wanted to keep an eye on Ben, who really didn’t have the strength to be feeding himself at this point, but Caleb was watching her like a hawk. Rebecca was also quite unhappy that he’d overheard their conversation and subsequently knew she’d slept with Ben, which she had hoped to keep a secret. The last thing she needed was another reason for Brewster to judge her.

–

Rebecca opened her eyes. The last embers of the fire were dying out and it was late. Caleb was asleep across from her, snoring contently. She could hear a small noise that sounded almost like a wounded animal. After a few moments of observation and listening, she realized what it was.

Careful not to wake Brewster, she crawled over to Ben, who was deep in what looked to be a troubling nightmare. Knowing her own bad dreams, Rebecca was gentle in her approach, carefully pulling him into her lap and searching for his hand. She hushed him softly.

“Benjamin…it’s Rebecca…you’re safe…I’m here…nothing can hurt you…”

Ben opened his eyes, panting. Through the light of the half moon she saw his blue eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and sadness. He looked around in confusion.

“Nathan…where’s Nathan?” he said, his voice quivering and desperate, “Rogers will find him…I have to tell him…before it’s too late…”

Rebecca swallowed, grasping his hand and pressing it to her chest, “Ben, feel my heartbeat. Focus on it. You’re here, right now, with me. There’s no danger. Nathan…Nathan is safe.”

Unbeknownst to Rebecca, Caleb had awakened as she reached Ben. Instead of flying over to stop her, he decided to quietly observe in the dark. He was curious to see what she would do.

Ben stared at her, the hand over her heart falling to the side,  “..Rebecca…”

“Ben, my love, you are safe here,” she said quietly.

Still shivering, Ben reached for her hand, “…do you promise?”

“I promise.” Rebecca said, entwining their fingers.

She took a deep breath and used her free hand to caress his soft hair. Quietly, she began to sing a song, which Caleb soon realized was in another language. It sounded like French. How odd that she knew a French lullaby.

But it was working. Ben’s eyes slipped shut and he leaned in close to her. The fear and panic had subsided and he was relaxed once more. Rebecca did this for several more minutes until she saw that he was back in slumber. Caleb watched as she adjusted so she didn’t disturb Ben, but remained close to him. He thought it better to not say a word.


	9. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Abe fails to show up at the boarding house, Rebecca takes matters into her own hands. Robert makes a choice. Ben learns he is not the only one incapable of following orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some graphic violence.
> 
> Changes: Various dialogue alterations so as not to utterly plagiarize the show.

**Spring 1777  
** Rebecca stood looking out the window at the rainstorm that was currently rushing through York City. She was grateful to be inside a warm place at this time, but the rain didn’t help with her mood. For despite the plans she made with Abe Woodhull, he had yet to show up at the boarding house. That, and the British were moving so slowly in terms of new units or plans, which meant she had virtually nothing to send forward to Ben.

It had been months since she’d spent the night in the makeshift camp with Ben and Caleb. She’d awoken early and packed up, telling Caleb he could keep the pot as they would need it. They’d exchanged a joke about the bounties being up in the new year, which would arrive shortly. There was still a bit of tension, but she felt Brewster had softened a bit in his attitude towards her.

Ben was fast asleep and did not stir, so she chose not to wake him. Had it not been a bitter war, Rebecca would have brought them both to York City and paid for their rooms herself, keeping an eye on Ben as he recovered. If she were a religious person, she would have prayed for him, and even a little for Caleb, too. They were in a precarious situation, and admittedly, she was worried.

After finding the tree and talking to her father, Rebecca returned to the path. She picked up her horse from the border in Jersey and rode the rest of the day. By evening, she had arrived in Hempsted and met up with Robert. They returned to the Townsend farm and stayed until the new year. It was genuinely uneventful, as far as Rebecca’s life went.

But Robert noticed she’d been a little unnerved. Being observant was one of his best qualities, which she was coming to resent. Even if she tried, she couldn’t hide her emotions from him. As Rebecca descended the stairs and took her place behind him at the desk, searching for the ledger, he took the opportunity to inquire.

“You’ve been a bit different since your trip to New Jersey,” Robert said, “Has something happened I ought to know about?”

Rebecca frowned, setting the ledger on the wooden countertop, “Not that I am aware of. What makes you say such a thing?”

“Because you’ve been quiet, and that concerns me.”

“I thought you weren’t fond of talking, Robert.”

Townsend sighed, “I am simply pointing out, that you have not been yourself-”

“And how can you know what that is?” Rebecca snapped, “Because you and I have not known each other that long. Are you dissatisfied with my behaviour as your  _fiancée_? I am not behaving accordingly?”

Robert fell silent, having finished polishing the glass he was working on, a prompting walked to the kitchen. He was not going to deal with an outburst, especially when he was not asking her by being unkind. Rebecca felt an immediately wave of regret for projecting her frustrations at him.

It wasn’t Robert’s fault. Not in the least.

\---

Rebecca felt guilty about the conversation. It ate away at her for the remainder of the day. By nightfall, she was still thinking about it, and resolved to apologize to Robert. Knowing he was finishing closing up for the night, she waited until she heard little movement before walking into the front room.

It seemed Robert knew her well enough to anticipate this, for he was seated at one of the small tables, a fresh game of draughts set before him. A peace offering. Or perhaps a hope she might share her thoughts. Likely both.

“…I’m sorry about how I spoke to you today,” Rebecca said quietly, “I was out of line, and unnecessarily cruel to someone who has shown me nothing but kindness.”

Robert smiled a little, “I assumed you were not feeling well.”

Rebecca shrugged, “Even if that were the case, it is no excuse. May I join you?”

Robert nodded. Rebecca took the seat across from him at the table. He loved this game since she’d known him, and had become quite good at it. Only once had she actually beat him, and she figured he’d let her win.

“Something happened when I was in Jersey that I can’t seem to shake,” Rebecca began, making the first move on the board, “But I fear you might think me crazy.”

Robert raised his eyebrows, “Well. This is far more interesting than I had anticipated.”

She laughed a little, “Don’t be daft, Robert…”

“I will not pass judgement, for only God may do such,” Robert said, moving a piece, “Tell me, so I might be able to help.”

“When your mother died, did you ever… I don’t know… did you ever  _see_  her again?” Rebecca asked gingerly.

“You mean as a spirit?”

Rebecca nodded.

Robert sat back in his seat, “Hmm. I suppose I did see her once, in one of my dreams. But that was because I was so terribly mournful. We often dream what we cannot stop thinking about.”

“This… wasn’t a dream,” Rebecca said, “It was when I was… well, I was starting a fire, in a camp I had made, and… this young man appeared. With a bright, white light surrounding him, like in those stories of angels your father used to read to us. He was almost difficult to look at, and after I looked at him for several minutes, he vanished. I did not see or hear evidence of him walking away.” She paused, avoiding his gaze. “I know how it sounds…”

“Are you saying you believe you saw a ghost?” Robert asked plainly.

“I know, I know, it sounds completely, utterly mad,” Rebecca insisted, “But I don’t know what else it could have been.”

“And it plagues you now.”

“In a way,” she nodded, “Because I did not know this man. I would understand if I saw my father, or Maman, but I didn’t know him from Adam.”

“Were you upon a grave?” Robert suggested.

“Are you saying you believe me?”

“I asked you a question.”

“No, I don’t think I was.”

“Hmm,” Robert seemed to be thinking this over, watching as Rebecca moved another piece, “While it is blasphemous to speak of the dead in such a way, perhaps he was bringing you a message from God.”

“A message?” Rebecca shook her head, “No, that is not possible.”

“God exists for all beings, Rebecca,” Robert said, “But I believe, if I may say so, that he appeared to you as a guardian.”

“You mean like a guardian angel.”

“Perhaps. Did he say anything?”

“No,” Rebecca lied, “Just… kind of stood there for a moment, then disappeared.”

“Hmm,” Robert nodded, “I think it best to not let this worry you. Unless you were hurt by the experience, or there was a feeling of dread-”

“No, not at all… I actually felt quite calm when I saw him.”

“Then an angel is the most likely candidate,” Robert said, “For you to be brought back to our family, and unharmed, I would bet you have one watching over you.”

Rebecca laughed a little, “I thought  _you_  were my guardian angel, Robert.”

“Well, I have been thinking,” Robert said quietly, his demeanour suddenly a bit nervous, “Should we survive this war, if it ever ends, that perhaps a marriage between us is not a bad idea.”

Rebecca looked up from the board at him.

“That is, should you not have found a suitor by that time.”

She sighed, “Who’d want to marry me, Robbie?”

“On the contrary, if it came down to it, I would,” Robert said firmly, “Now, we don’t have to…exercise  _every_  rite of husband and wife…”

She sensed he was deeply uncomfortable and chose to shift it, “If you knew about what I’ve been up to between the time I left Oyster Bay and the night I arrived here, you’d not be offering yourself as a husband in the first place.”

“There is little you could do to sway my opinion of you, Rebecca, I thought you knew that by now,” Robert replied, at last taking his turn.

“But your faith, I’ve violated much of its teachings,” she said earnestly, “I mean…even if I did find someone, once he knew I’m not… that I’ve been with…”

“Do you equate your value with whether or not you remain a virgin until the wedding night?” Robert asked, a remarkably frank question to come from him.

Rebecca felt like she was shrinking, “Doesn’t everyone?”

Robert shrugged, “Only a fool would believe every human being in the colonies, let alone the world, waits until marriage.” He gave her a knowing, sly look. Somehow, she realized they were the same in that regard.

Rebecca shook her head, taking one of Robert’s pieces, “There is unfortunately one thing I want in life that I could never ask you to fulfill.”

“A business where people pay their bills on time? Unfortunately I doubt anyone could.”

She smiled, but then felt a bit sad, “No…Robert, I want to have children, and raise a family. I spent my childhood without siblings, so I have long dreamed of having a big, bustling family with many sons and daughters to kep me busy.”

Robert met her eyes, “If that is what you want, you shall have it.”

“You know I could not ask that of you.”

“There are men in my position who have done so, I don’t see why I can not.”

Rebecca placed her hand on his, “You are trying to live a life that is unlike you. I  _know_  you, Robert Townsend. You love solitary, quiet and simplistic. A house full of children and a wife, it’s just not  _you_.” She paused. “You are my oldest and dearest friend. I’ve lost so many that are close to me. I do not intend to lose you to an unhappy life.”

Seeming to think this over, Robert took a moment before he responded, “We may adopt children, if that better suits you. This war makes orphans of many in its wake.” Their eyes met again. “I could be happy if I were married to an old, dear friend.”

Rebecca sighed, knowing he would not budge on this, “Very well…”

“So who is the man you rush out to see every now and then?” Robert asked.

Rebecca’s face flushed, “Man?”

“Well, you’re clearly meeting up with someone, and doing so in York City would violate our ‘arrangement’,” he said plainly, “Not to mention, when you returned before Thanksgiving…I could tell you’d had a sort of ‘meeting.’“

“Define ‘meeting’?”

“Well, you never did like sewing or needle craft, but I have a feeling you were out ‘face-making’ with someone-”

“ROBERT!”

They both started to laugh. 

“But you  _were_ , Rebecca. You had a look of someone who…well, someone who has afforded herself the pleasures of man and wife.”

Rebecca groaned, “Fine, but you must know that I am mortified, and curious to know how you figured that out. How do you seem to know most things before anyone else? Tell me, dear Quaker, what is your secret?”

“It’s quite simple,” Robert said, moving his piece and promptly taking three of her remaining ones, “You have to be a couple steps ahead.”

It slowly dawned on Rebecca that he was right, and it could be applied to her situation. What if something was preventing Abe from coming to New York, and if so, could she help? Setauket was not much longer than a day’s ride, and if she left early, she could reach Anna’s tavern in good time and find out what was going on. Not to mention, if Abe arrived while she was away, it would be in the ledger when she returned.

“I think I’d like to make a trip out of the city tomorrow,” she said, moving one of her pieces to a place where she could strike two of his, “And I’ll offer to bring back some raspberry sherry, if that will give me your blessing for said trip.”

“I could not stop you from leaving even if I tried, Rebecca,” Robert said, “Although I won’t deny that having you pick up the sherry as opposed to my ordering it will be a much cheaper option…”

“I’ll only be gone a day or two, and if I am not back within a week, send a search party.” Rebecca promised.

“If we do marry someday, will you tell me where you’ve been going?”

“Not a chance, Robbie.”

“It was worth a fair shot.” Robert shrugged, taking her remaining piece, effectively putting her in an impossible place.

“You know, I do hate this game.”

“You hate losing.”

“Yes, and you’re very lucky that I care for you.”

—

Benjamin Tallmadge was heartbroken, and the importance of his position meant he could not show it, even if he wanted to. There were two reasons for this, the first being a secret, and the second known by everyone, including Washington. Despite the fact that he’d been promoted to Major and given the green light for his ring of spies, Ben was struggling.

He woke up in early January, not remembering much after the fall into the Delaware. Confused and with the remnants of a cold, he was told by an enthusiastic Caleb that all the men had moved on to Trenton. Naturally, Ben was eager to follow, and as he went to get up, found himself wrapped in a warm, knitted scarf. It was the kind that could only belong to a woman. 

“Your little red wife paid us a visit, Tall boy,” Caleb said, “Don’t ye remember?”

Ben didn’t remember, and this genuinely upset him. For all the pining he’d had for her, be it from the chaste desire to simply speak in person to his yearning to make love to her again, God had granted one wish, and Ben had been indisposed. At least he had her scarf, which carried her spicy, sharp scent. At least this meant he would have to return it to her at some point.

“She came through on her way to a pilgrimage to old Charlie just after Christmas,” Caleb continued, “Stopped and made a stew, sayin’ ya needed more than rations.” He paused. “Least now I know why yer so bent on havin’ her ‘round, Ben.”

“Because she’s resourceful?” Ben frowned.

“Aye, an’ cause she’s got yer cherry,” Caleb said with a smirk.

“…she told you that?”

“Actually, yew did,” Caleb replied, “Ya went on a long ramble after ya woke, an’ told ‘er how much ‘New Jersey’ meant, an’ how ya wanted to kiss her…was just sweet, ya know.”

Ben was embarrassed, “Wonderful…”

“A man’s passions ain’t shameful, Benny boy,” Caleb said, “Now let’s get a move on.”

After the events at Trenton and meeting with Washington, Ben had been put up with paperwork when he received a notice regarding his older brother, Samuel. Years earlier, Samuel had been placed on the Jersey, which all rebels knew was essentially a death sentence, and by some miracle, he was being released. Thrilled, Ben allowed Caleb to go collect his brother.

But Samuel had died before Christmas, and according to Selah Strong’s testimony, it had not been peaceful. In the bleak winter, Caleb had been sent on a fool’s errand by Robert Rogers, as a trap to lure Ben. Despite having gone toe to toe with Rogers a second time and surviving, Ben was angry, and unsatisfied. 

When he returned to camp, Ben wouldn’t sleep. He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to fight off the visions of Samuel trapped in the dark and dreary ship, starving and sick. As a child, Ben had idolized his brother, and did everything he could to follow him. It had been just his father, Samuel and Ben for years. The reality of knowing he’d never see his brother again, coupled with how Rogers had used it to bait him, infuriated him.

But of the two, Rebecca was the only thing that brought a bit of hope. Ben read and reread her letter constantly. Her scarf, which he kept in his quarters, eventually made it next to his pillow one night when he was restless. Rebecca’s scent was calming, like a cup of hot tea in the cold. He wondered if it would ever be possible to hold her again.

As the winter faded into spring, no intelligence arrived from York City, and Ben grew anxious. He had no way of knowing if Rebecca was actively trying to procure anything, or even if she was still there. Not a single letter had arrived, and Ben knew the British weren’t hibernating. Caleb insisted that there was a still a chance, “Once the ice thaws, the lobsters will come out to play.”

He prayed Caleb was right.

—

**Two days later**

Rebecca never reached Setauket. She didn’t have to. On the outskirts of the town she came upon a man hiding in a ditch, shaking like a leaf. Her instincts told her it would be best to stop, even if it meant a risk to herself. Slowing down, she dismounted.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

“I reckon you keep moving, miss,” the man replied, his voice cracking, “There’s a patrol coming round soon.”

“I fear no patrol,” she responded, “What are you hiding from? Has someone attacked you?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve come from Setauket.”

“Setauket? I’m headed there myself.”

“You don’t want to go that way, miss,” the man said, “The whole town’s going up in flames.”

“A fire?” Rebecca asked.

The man shook his head, “No. A bloodyback named Simcoe.”

“Simcoe?” Rebecca  knelt close to the man, “What’s happened?”

“He’s executing traitors to the crown,” he said, so shaken up he seemed to be looking all around him, “Got a list of them from the magistrate. It’s all men who signed in support of Selah Strong for the New York Continental Congress, you see, a-and his son put them on trial at the church…”

“Slow down,” Rebecca said, going into her pack for water and handing it to him so he could drink, “Simcoe’s rounded up rebels in Setauket, and Abraham Woodhull has put them on trial?”

“Yes, and they’re innocent,” the man said, “Most of them, anyway…they’ve got poor Lucas Brewster, a man with palsy, and the reverend-”

“Brewster?” Rebecca said, “Did you say Brewster? And Reverend Tallmadge, correct?”

“Y-yes, I believe it’s because Lucas’ nephew is one of Washington’s boys now,” he said, grateful for the water, “I fled because it’s either the Jersey or the noose. Redcoats built a gallows this morning on the hill. Every man they’re keeping in the Strong Tavern’s cellar is as good as dead.”

She reached into her pack a second time to withdraw a quill, ink and paper, “Can you give me the names of all the men?”

After five quick minutes of his dictation and her writing, Rebecca had them all.

“And your name, sir?”

“W-Walter Havens, ma’am,” he said, “If you’re to take this to General Clinton, you should know I’ve already got a death warrant.”

“I’m not,” Rebecca insisted, “I’m a rebel, just like you.”

She jumped to her feet, putting the document away.

Walter sat up, “Where are you going?”

Rebecca climbed onto her horse and turned in a different direction, “To get help.”

—

“Company halt!” Ben raised his hand, seeing two Continental scouts approaching on horseback, looking frazzled as clearly upset woman was in the middle of a row with them. It only took seconds before he realized who it was.

“I need to speak with him!” Rebecca was shouting, “Untie me, you imbeciles!”

“Untie her!” Ben flew off his horse, tearing off his helmet in the process, “I know her, she’s with us!”

“Found her riding alone looking suspicious,” one of the scouts told him, “She insisted on seeing you, by name.”

“She tried to pull a knife on us, sir.” The other man added.

“Private, it’s fine, I know this woman,” Ben said, immediately removing her restraints and helping her down, “What on earth-”  
  
“Captain Talmadge,” Rebecca said, nearly out of breath as she tried to do this formally, “I come with urgent news from…from Setauket-”

Ben raised his hands, keen to ensure she wasn’t outing herself in front of the Dragoons, “Madame, slow down-”

Caleb on the other hand was eager to hear it, “Rebecca, the hell you doin’ out here? What’s goin’ on?”

“Caleb,” Ben warned him with his gaze and turned to gently place his hands on Rebecca’s upper arms, “Madame, we shall escort you to camp to discuss what you’ve come-”

“For heaven’s sake, Ben, Simcoe has your father!” Rebecca snapped, pushing his arms away from her and looking to Caleb, “And your uncle, Caleb.”

Ben looked stunned, “Simcoe?”

“He had them both arrested on grounds for conspiracy regarding some list about someone in Setauket for the New York, Congress, I don’t know-”

“The support form for Selah,” Caleb said, “Shite…”

“He’s taken a series of hostages after a mockery of trial at the church led by Abe in his father’s absence,” she continued, forcing a crumpled piece of paper into his hands, “I have a list of all the names. They started constructing a gallows this morning with intent to hang or place them on the  _Jersey_. Simcoe’s condemned all of them.”

“How do you know this? You’re supposed to be in York City.” Ben demanded. He glanced at the paper she’d given him, and recognized all the names he read. She was absolutely telling the truth.

“I hadn’t heard from Abe in months, and he’s supposed to be staying at my boarding house,” Rebecca explained, “So I took it upon myself to see if there was something preventing him from showing up, and now I know this to be the reason. I came upon a man called Walter Havens hiding in a ditch not far from here, he told me everything, and I rode straight here en route to camp. I’d have made it if these two idiots hadn’t stopped me.”

“No, this is fortunate since time is of the essence,” Ben said, “Caleb…how many whaleboats can you round up?”

Caleb seemed excited and they started to make plans. Rebecca was given a chance to catch her breath and shoot glares at the two Privates. It was annoying that no one believed she was associated with the Continentals or that she knew Ben. But she likely owed that to both her gender and colour of her skin.

“So we’ll reach camp, round up the grouping, and head out from there,” Ben finished, “How is that?”

“Can’t believe we’re goin’ home.” Caleb was grinning from ear to ear.

“Madame, thank you for the information,” Ben said, turning to Rebecca, “Do you require an escort to Oyster Bay?”

Rebecca frowned at him, “Why are you calling me that?”

Ben sighed, lowering his voice, “Look, I am grateful for this, I truly am. But I have to move my unit to Setauket immediately.”

“I’m going with you.”

Ben pulled her aside, and not gently.

“You are not to follow us. This is no place for a woman.”

“Neither is rebellion, yet here I am.”

Ben narrow his eyes, “Rebecca. This is dangerous. You are not a soldier.”

“I can fight just as well if not better than any of you.”

“Rebecca, you are not to go to Setauket, with or without us, and that is an order,” Ben said firmly, “You are needed in York City.”

“An order?” she raised her eyebrows, “Thought you said I wasn’t a soldier.”

“Aye, Benny Boy, if yew and yer wife are quite done, we’ve got a town to storm.” Caleb said.

Ben looked at Caleb and then back at Rebecca. He had that intense gaze that told her he wasn’t budging on this one. Understandably, he had to focus on the task at hand.

“Thank you Captain Talmadge-”

“Actually, it’s Major now.” Ben corrected her.

“ _Major_  Tallmadge,” Rebecca said, a hint of anger in her voice, “I won’t require an escort, as my fiancé is likely expecting me at his father’s farm in Oyster Bay. So if that’s fine with you, I’ll be headed there from here.”

Ben frowned, but nodded. He had no idea what she meant by the last part, but hoped it was a cover. They parted without so much as a second look, at least not from Rebecca. She declined one of the scouts’ offer to help her onto her horse and immediately rode in the direction they came.

Sure, Ben had ordered Rebecca to remain away from Setauket for the upcoming battle. He was thinking of her safety. This would be a place for men.

It was a good thing he hadn’t uttered the same command to the Redcoat Killer.

—

**The next morning**

Choosing to follow Strong’s unit was not the best idea, Rebecca decided. They’d been waylaid at the crossing of the Long Island Sound, which put them off a few hours. Seeing as it took time to round up the group, and a recently recruited unit was put under Selah Strong (which Rebecca recognized from the document), it was her only option to not be sighted. Disguised as a man and holding a musket she’d picked up at camp, she managed to blend in amidst the chaos.

They arrived at the shore of the cove in the morning. Admittedly, the journey there reminded her of the privateering days with her father, so it was pleasant enough. Some of the men had fallen asleep, and Rebecca was happy this meant no one would try talking to her. Talking to loudly was a risk, anyway, as this was a secret mission and attack.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of musket fire. Everyone turned their attention to see a young boy riding off towards town on horseback. She heard Ben calling for the men to hold fire. Good, she thought, at least he and I agree on something.

They joined the dragoons and other units, heading through a field and forest to reach Setauket. It would no longer be a sneak attack, as the boy had probably gone to warn Major Hewlett. But it was still an attack none the less.

Rebecca had learned about drills and the rules of modern warfare from books. She devoured them as a child, and read them again as an adult. During the day she observed some of the drills the redcoats did in the city. So Selah’s commands, the marching order and even the musket presentation were not unfamiliar to her.

Soon, they came upon the hill where the gallows stood. Rebecca felt her stomach jump into her throat. It was true. She knew it was, but now it was all the more worse to have it confirmed. As they got closer, Ben gave the order to charge, and together they all broke into a full on sprint towards the gallows.

It was pure chaos. People were screaming everywhere. Around her, some men fell shortly after the sound of British muskets rang out. Some of the prisoners by the gallows took off running. Rebecca grasped her musket, unafraid of running straight into the danger before her. There was so much adrenaline pumping through her that if Ben had so much as tried to hold her back, it would be impossible.

Ben. That’s who she fixated upon, not meaning to, as he suddenly stopped at the front of the herd. She quickly saw he was staring at a British officer holding a gun to a civilian with his wrists bound. Within seconds, Rebecca realized the officer was Simcoe and the poor civilian to be Ben’s father.

Unsurprisingly, Ben ordered them all to fall back.

—

The redcoats barricaded themselves and the prisoners in the church. Selah and Ben allowed their units to enter the main areas of the town, herding the townspeople into the tavern. There was a calm in between storms, it seemed. Rebecca’s unit quickly discovered the schoolhouse was being used as a magazine, and was filled to the brink with powder. Under Caleb, they began to evacuate it of the gunpowder.

Something wasn’t quite right, though. Why were they pausing? Rebecca looked towards the church and saw who she assumed was Major Hewlett and Simcoe having a discussion. Hewlett seemed to gesture towards the cannons, which she saw them getting ready to fire.

Moments later, she heard Caleb screaming for them all to fall back, and thankfully Rebecca listened. The magazine exploded, sending fiery pieces of wood and barrels everywhere. Strong Tavern shook, terrifying everyone inside it. Rebecca figured it would be best to follow Ben and Caleb into the tavern and blend in with the rest of those inside.

She walked in just as Ben and Selah were having a discussion, and chose a place by the door. As the two parted, Rebecca heard Abe’s voice enter the silence of the tavern. She became so focused on Abe and Ben’s conversation that she neglected to notice Selah’s unit (the unit she was supposed to follow) had gone outside.

But Ben took notice.

“Let’s take him somewhere private, yeah?” Ben was saying as Caleb hastily grabbed Abe by the waistcoat. It was obviously all for show, but it was admittedly convincing. Rebecca recognized that Abe’s wife, Mary, was visibly upset by all this, and wondered if she too were playing along. She also noticed she was holding a tiny little boy that looked astoundingly like Abraham.

Wait, was Abe  _married_  with a  _son_?

“Mrs. Strong, would you kindly open the cellar for us?” Ben asked Anna. Thinking she would have to remain behind, Rebecca watched curiously as Anna pretended to be nervous about the situation.

But then Ben turned to face her.

“And perhaps,  _Private Morgan_ , you might guard the door so this Tory Woodhull doesn’t make a run for it?”

Rebecca swallowed, but nodded. There was no way she could refuse. She followed the group down to the same cellar she’d been in months ago, helping Ben shut the doors. Abe and Caleb had started to spar in the meantime.

“What the hell is this? I had everything sorted just fine, you should never have shown up!” Abe said angrily.

“You all need to be quiet!” Anna said firmly, “Do you want to be heard?”

“I’m sorry, there was no way I could send warning in time,” Ben said to Abraham, “But we received word about Simcoe yesterday afternoon.”

“Word? From who?” Abraham demanded. 

Ben then turned to face Rebecca, who stood silently by the doors, “Well. I don’t know. Why don’t you tell him…  _Rebecca_.”

Anna looked to Caleb, who looked to Abe. Rebecca sighed, removing the bandana that covered the lower half of her face, and the brimmed hat. Ben shook his head at her.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Caleb said, “What in the shite?!”

Abe seemed to blink at her, “Now this has got to be a joke.”

“It’s not joke, unfortunately,” Ben said, “I told Miss Starling to stay away but apparently she needed to find a way to be here.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a deathwish, because they’re got actual guns and cannons outside,  _Miss_.” Abraham said.

“Honestly, Mr. Woodhull, I can probably handle a gun better than you could. Not that that is much of a challenge.”

“That’s enough,” Anna said, stepping between them, “Rebecca, how did you find out about the trial?”

“I came upon Walter Havens on the main road to town,” Rebecca explained, avoiding Ben’s gaze, “He told me everything. About the trial, the  _Jersey_ , and the hangings-”

“There were no hangings,” Abe said, “I’d convinced Hewlett to commute their sentences, but now that you brought the army here-”

“I didn’t ‘bring’ the army here, that was Major Tallmadge’s decision-”

“No, but it was your intent,” Abe said firmly, “And you acted upon the word of one man who fled. You’re supposed to be in York City, at that boarding house like we discussed-”

“Well I was, until you neglected to show up!”

“So you run to Ben, who throws you into a uniform-”

Offended, Ben stepped in, “I had NOTHING to do with  _that_!”

“Oh please, Tallmadge, I’ve saved your hide twice now, why are you even pretending to be surprised?” Rebecca snapped at him, “Yes, I took the man’s word and brought it to Ben. I chose to follow them to this attack. What were you saying about a commute?”

“I’d arranged for the men to be placed instead on the  _Jersey_.” Abe said.

“Right, because that’s better.” Rebecca scoffed.

“Well it doesn’t equal death!” Abe snapped back.

“Apparently not.”

The group turned to Anna.

“I was told my husband was dead after Christmas, and I have had to live with that,” Anna’s voice was rife with emotion, “When were you going to tell me that Selah was with your army, Ben? Were you ever going to let me know, Caleb?”

“…it was my choice to withhold that information, Anna, and for that I must apologize” Ben said quietly, “I ordered Caleb to keep it quiet. Robert Rogers used Selah as bait to trap me.”

“Trap you? How?” Anna asked.

“The bastard got word out that Samuel was alive.” Caleb finished.

Anna’s eyes fell, “…so it wasn’t my husband that had died. It was your brother.”

Rebecca had no idea Ben had a brother, but she saw a sadness in Ben she’d only seen once before. Though it had been his delirium from sickness, she suspected the words about Nathan Hale had rang true. It was easy to see he was devastated.

“Selah can confirm it because he was with him,” Ben said, “And I’ll be damned before I see another member of my family sent-”

“So this entire raid, this attack, it’s personal, then,” Abe interrupted, “Well, that makes perfect sense.”

Ben sighed, “Abe-”

“No, it’s just as I thought,” Abe continued, “You know what? I’m done with this. I am through with the risks on my family. Tell 711 I’m through.”

Rebecca frowned, “711?”

“Abraham-”

“And if you want to get out of this situation without more innocent people dying, you’re going to have to play by my rules, because Hewlett is not going to surrender,” Abe explained, “Is that clear?”

Ben looked frustrated. Caleb looked ready to punch him. Anna just seemed tired, and understandably so.

“Now then, I’ll walk out with a flag of truce, towards the church. It won’t be long before Clinton shows up with help and outnumber us. I suggest, a trade: the prisoners in the church for the soldiers you have upstairs.”

Caleb shrugged, “Would the lobster-back go for that?”

“I think he might,” Anna said, “It seems a fair deal.”

“Right, but tell him it was my terms,” Ben agreed, “And tell him we’ll withdraw after that. After all, that is what we came for.”

Ben then turned to Rebecca, “As for the soldier I did not ask for nor did I recruit…” He reached for one of the remaining ropes in the cellar. “Anna, if you don’t mind ensuring she doesn’t leave?”

Rebecca was furious as Ben pushed her against one of the posts and tied her arms behind it. She glared daggers at him, to which he returned. This was both humiliating and unnecessary, she thought, but Ben was too upset with her to consider any other options. Once it was secured, he stood before her.

“You are not to participate in this raid any further, do you understand, Miss Starling?” Ben said firmly, looking her in the eye.

“And if I do?” Rebecca dared, meeting his gaze without fear.

“Then you will answer to me.” Ben tugged on the ropes, ensuring they were tight. Satisfied, he exited the cellar with Abe and Caleb.

Anna approached her, “This is, admittedly, not what I expected when I met you, Rebecca.”

Rebecca sighed, secretly allowed the tiny knife within her sleeve to slip into her hand, “No one wants to see a woman in uniform, Anna.”

Anna crossed her arms, “Why did you do this? I understand we are all risking our lives for the cause in the ring, but… going into battle for it? Even I couldn’t imagine that.”

Rebecca shrugged, starting to cut away at the rope with ease, “When Walter Havens said that Simcoe had Reverend Tallmadge, I had to ensure I stopped his execution.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because Simcoe killed my father, too,” she said, “The thought of him doing the same to Ben, I just couldn’t stand it. I’m not afraid of him, and I won’t hesitate to kill him if I get the chance. To me, his reign of terror ends today.”

With that, she revealed her freed hands.

“…Rebecca, I must caution you,” Anna said, “Do not attack him unless he is alone.”

“So we don’t have anymore unnecessary casualties, I know.”

The unmistakable sound of a pistol rang out from the hill, followed shortly by the sound of muskets and a scream. Anna and Rebecca looked at each other in horror. Rebecca went to run out, but Anna grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t,” Anna said, “You’re already in trouble with Ben.”

“Anna, he doesn’t scare me.”

“I know,” Anna insisted, “But if you want to remain in this ring, or at least let Ben allow you a chance to explain, it would be best not to walk out there until it’s settled.”

It wasn’t long before things had, indeed, settled. Anna resolved to wait for about fifteen minutes before she and Rebecca emerged, with Rebecca’s full disguise intact. It seemed the trade had gone well after all, but with the effect of one unfortunate casualty.

Ben gave Rebecca an uncomfortable look as he passed by, but he didn’t approach her nor did he give any indication of wanting to attempt further orders. Selah shouted something about everyone falling in, which told Rebecca they were getting ready to leave. She nodded to Anna, passing by Ben as he spoke quietly to Abe. Everyone was returning to the cove.

It had never occurred to her that Abe was married or had a child, but she’d seen his wife and son at the tavern. It was a great risk for a married man to be taking. Obviously many of the soldiers were married, but Rebecca saw being a rebel spy as an extra risk. Their reputations, if caught, were destroyed by all who knew them. To some, they were martyrs. But Rebecca couldn’t imagine what might happen to Abe’s wife and little boy if something went wrong.

She was angry when she learned Simcoe had murdered Lucas Brewster. If Ben hadn’t been dramatic and tied her to a post, she might have been able to get a shot on him before he pulled the trigger on the poor old man. But of course, Ben would never allow such a thing. He would never understand this part of her.

And yet, why had her father trained her so? Rebecca could pick locks, sneak in and out of places without being seen, and operate nearly every weapon on earth. Yet none of these skills were practical ones for a lady in these parts, or anywhere in the world as far as she was concerned. Sure, she could do needlepoint or cook if needed, but admittedly, she hated those things. Perhaps Ben might find her skills useful to teach to the men. This was a possibility. Her mind swam with ideas. By the time they reached the cove, Rebecca was already considering how she might even begin to explain to Ben how she managed to blend in with Selah’s group unnoticed, but figured he would be simply upset by that, too.

Her thoughts broke when she witnessed Nathaniel Tallmadge and Ben. It never occurred to her how long it had been since they’d seen each other. The older widower, stripped of his church and dignity, standing with his tall, broad-shouldered soldier son. His rescuer. She could see in his eyes just how proud he was.

Rebecca passed them as Ben embraced his father, and he watched her closely. She knew he’d probably protest to her returning to camp, but seeing as he did not in that moment, she took this as permission to reenter the bot. After all, she did want to debrief him on the state of York City. And presumably, he wanted to give her a tongue lashing.

But not the type she typically enjoyed of him.

The redcoats were on their way with reinforcements, so the group was moving fast. It seemed that Anna was going to return to camp alongside Selah. She sat next to Rebecca in the boat as they got ready to leave. Quietly, she leaned over to her as Selah spoke to his men and gave directions.

“Private Morgan,” Anna said quietly, “You’ve seen what war makes of those in the crossfire.”

Rebecca nodded.

“Then I suggest, when you return to camp with Ben,” her voice fell to a whisper, “You tell him the real reason you rushed to Setauket’s aid. Because I know it wasn’t just to get revenge on Simcoe.”

Before Rebecca could even consider responding, Anna chose to jump into the water and swim to shore. This not only prevented the redcoats from shooting, but also kept Anna’s cover. Amidst the shouting of Major Hewlett in her favour, the former disgraced Patriot, was now in their eyes a woman loyal to the crown. Abe met her on the other side, and Rebecca saw they had both created a Tory facade with which to operate under.

As they finally pulled away for good, she reflected on Anna’s words. It pained Rebecca to fight away the feelings inside her. The real reason for being so anxious about not hearing from Abe was because it created an even bigger distance between herself and Major Tallmadge. There was absolutely nothing she could send to him regarding the state of York City, because things had honestly not changed since the freeze of winter. The British were still thawing out. Rebecca knew deep down that the need for contact with Ben was festering inside her, and holding back was only making it all worse. If Anna Strong could see the truth, when she was trying so hard to keep it quiet, then perhaps it was truly more real than she could even fathom.

Rebecca joined the ring to get revenge. She offered and accepted her post to ensure no more families would have to suffer what she did. But she was fighting in this war so fervently for another reason entirely.

She was in love with Ben Tallmadge, and it was absolutely killing her.


	10. Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben threatens to remove Rebecca from the ring. Rebecca reveals a truth to him to prove her loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to be adding chapters willy-nilly, but I update this story regularly on my tumblr, @scars-and-stripes. However I will try to update it here as well from now on.
> 
> Fluff chapter. NSFW.

Rebecca knew Ben was angry. She could tell by the way he led her into the barn at Morristown that night, which at least was bigger than the small shack he’d put her in before. All it contained was a large hay bale and a few barrels. Clearly the army was getting ready to move.

“You deliberately disobeyed me!” Ben exclaimed, fire in his eyes as he started to pace, “You did exactly what I told you not to do, putting yourself and your cover at risk! Rebecca, you cannot even to begin to imagine the situation you’ve put me in-”

“Then tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me about the situation I’ve put you in,” Rebecca said calmly, “Because from what I saw, no one knew it was a woman, let alone me, that fought behind Selah Strong among many other civilian soldiers. There was no indication of you being complicit in that. And the only people who know are Abe, Anna, Caleb and you.”

“Did it not occur to you that your life was in danger?” Ben asked, through with pacing and now approaching her directly, “That losing you to injury or death was detrimental to the ring, and to me?”

“Major I can defend myself-”

“I was not questioning your ability to defend, rather, the enemy’s to see you killed,” Ben was exasperated, “Or are you  _that_  surprised that the thought of something happening to you is distressing to me?”

Rebecca blinked at him, “Surely you’ve enough spies, or the ability to secure one in York City should I be removed.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief, “No, Rebecca, I don’t. There is no one in York City that I or anyone in this army, let alone Congress are aware of, who might support us. Replacing you is not only a matter of difficulty, but I don’t wish to see my agents  _murdered_  if I can help it.” He sighed. “I know you’re eager to prove yourself in this way but I must advise against it.”

“This had little to do with ‘proving myself,’“ Rebecca said, feeling her temper rise, “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“Then why in God’s name were you there?” Ben asked, “I cannot fathom why else you’d masquerade as a soldier-”

“Because your father was there, Ben!” Rebecca exclaimed, “The moment Anna told me that Simcoe had Reverend Tallmadge, I couldn’t stand the thought of you going through what I did at thirteen, especially knowing now that those bastards murdered your brother.” She blinked away the angry tears. “All of those men forced into that church, whatever ‘treason’ Simcoe decided they were guilty of with is irrelevant to me, for I am so tired of watching them tread all over innocent people. For whatever reason I am gifted with the ability of a sword or pistol where women usually don’t stand, I care not, but I intend to use it.”

Ben was stunned by her confession. A part of him sensed that despite how much she held back any talk of feelings, Rebecca’s need to ensure his father did not meet the same fate as hers solidified that she did care for him somewhat. Even if it was in secret.

“And they don’t even care when they choose their victims,” she continued, “What sort of monster outright kills an old man with palsy? I believe it to be the same that lies about a man’s brother being alive in order to coax him out. Robert Rogers, Simcoe, they’re all the same. I am so utterly sick of hiding at my boarding house, hoping for a drop of information to befall me so I might send a letter, instead of helping destroy them where I can.”

“And what if you get killed, Rebecca?” Ben asked.

“Then… I’ve served my purpose,” she said simply, “And that is all.”

Ben shook his head a third time, “I confess it deeply offends me that you believe I think so little of you.”

At this moment, Ben decided he was not going to speak to his agent. Instead, he wanted to voice something to the woman he had been thinking about in the evenings, in the alone time without paperwork or stress. He could no longer stand holding it all in, and given the fact that she very well could have been killed by a stray bullet that day, Ben decided it was time to just tell her.

He withdrew a small, folded paper from within his jacket, “Do you know what this is?” Rebecca watched as he unfolded it. “This… is the only letter I have received from you.”

“There is little worth reporting outside of what you already know-”

“I’m not reprimanding you for not sending another,” Ben said.

“Then why mention it?”

“Because I am admittedly fond of it,” Ben said quietly, “You’ve left a part at the end that I have read over and over, much like a schoolboy, I suppose…”

Rebecca’s face was a deep red, and she did not enjoy this, “Major…”

“You are allowed to call me ‘Ben’, you know.”

“Ben… now that we’ve calmed down,” Rebecca said, “I know what you’ve brought me here to do.”

Ben looked at her, a serious gaze overtaking his handsome face. He wished himself to be more unreadable, but on this occasion hiding things was impossible. Or perhaps his exhaustion was too evident.

Rebecca knew there would be no convincing him to allow her a proper soldier’s place, or even accompany them on raids. She was still a woman, after all. It was time to let Ben do what he needed to do.

“This is the part where you tell me I am being cut from the ring,” she said quietly, “And that you thank me for serving my country, that you will find someone to escort me away.” 

“Rebecca, just-”

“Truth be told, I have no country, just as I have no home, and no true name. Haven’t you wondered why I’ve so many different ones?”

“Different names?”

She nodded.

“I suppose it did not matter to me, so long as you were pleased with the one you have… though I wonder, if your beloved father’s name was Morgan, why you changed your own to Starling.”

“Because starlings are free, Ben,” she explained, “And that’s what I want to be. Free as a bird, with no chains and no past following me around.”

 Ben smiled a little, “That is why you suit our cause.”

“The one of which you wish to cut me from.”

Ben decided in that moment to be brave, “If I do that, will you go to your fiancé in Oyster Bay?”

Rebecca, having forgotten the stinging words she’d used at Ben earlier, swallowed visibly.

“Or did you say that to hurt me?” Ben asked.

“Hurt you?” she echoed.

“Are you actually engaged, Rebecca? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you’d feel nothing if you left the ring and we never met again.” Ben dared her. “Because a woman engaged to be married to someone would be just as well with that.”

Rebecca scoffed, “Don’t be childish.”

“Childish?” Ben said, “You cannot admit what is plainly before you, and for that I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ve nothing to admit.” Rebecca said firmly. 

“Rebecca,” Ben said, standing closer to her than before, “I must assure you of the contents of this letter, which I could not pass on to superiors. The kindness you showed me by wrapping me in your scarf when I was recovering from the cold, and ensuring both Caleb and myself had enough to eat by leaving your own food behind. Your need to save not just the innocents of Setauket, but my father, to spare me from the pain of another loss. At great risk to yourself, no less. To force you out of the ring would not only be a disservice to my country, but to my heart.”

“I… I only did those things because… because I had to,” Rebecca said, trying not to look into the eyes she knew were making her melt away into the ground, “And I should have stayed longer, to make sure Caleb was doing ok. Maybe if I’d left earlier for Setauket I might have reached you sooner, and his uncle might still live-”

Ben silenced her with a kiss that took her aback. It had been so long since he’d kissed her, and Rebecca leaned into it immediately. There was a wave of warmth within him that she was drawn to. Ben held her face in his hands, gently of course, and no sooner had the kiss ended did she miss their presence. 

“No array of excuses can deny how furious I would be if something had happened to you today,” Ben said, his forehead pressed to hers, “Or how completely and utterly besotted I am by you…”

Rebecca could feel her cheeks burning with tears. She wanted this, him, so badly she thought her heart was going to burst. The last few years of her life had been ruled by secrecy and rules, of which she was desperate to break from. Perhaps this was her only chance.

“… I… am not engaged,” Rebecca began, her voice shaking, “It is something a man, who is much like a brother to me, came up with to appease his father…”

“… do you care to explain further?” Ben, ever the intelligence man, needed more than that.

“It’s not a true engagement,” she said, her stomach churning as she betrayed Robert, “We are friends from when I was younger. He runs the boarding house and I run it with him, so we pretend we are married for the sake of patrons, but I swear we sleep in separate bedrooms and there is nothing between us… I know how it all sounds, please don’t look at me like that.”

“I am not passing judgement,” Ben replied, “That is your means of surviving.” 

Rebecca felt guilty, “You must swear to keep this only to yourself, for I promised I would not allow any harm to come to him or his family.”

“Of course…” Secrecy was Ben’s oath.

They’d gotten close again, and Rebecca could feel it. Her lower body was beginning to stir in reaction to being near Ben. For weeks she had thought about him and yearned to touch him, and now the moment was presenting itself. If he was to truly remove her from the ring and she would have to consider actually marrying Robert, this was her last chance. One more time would be enough, compared to a lifetime without him.

“I suppose you have a question remaining that you are afraid to ask,” Rebecca began.

“And what might that be?” Ben was intrigued. 

"Aren’t you wondering how I managed to hide my figure in this disguise?”

Ben swallowed. No, he had not been wondering, but now that she mentioned it, his mind raced with the image of her shapely body in the formless men’s clothing. His gaze looked down, taking her in and now genuinely wanting to know, but more than anything wishing to see her without it.

Rebecca started simple enough by removing the jacket and following with the waistcoat. Ben watched hungrily, the candlelight in the barn enough to give a romantic glow to her dark skin. Tantalizingly slow, she unbuttoned the plain shirt, and revealed a tightly wound cotton cloth around her chest. 

“It isn’t the most comfortable option,” she said, “Would you mind helping me remove it?”

Ben reached out to touch her, but was met with her hand sliding up his arm and pulling off his jacket, forcing a hard kiss onto his eager mouth. He instantly reacted, grasping her close, and leading her to the generous pile of hay. Hastily she worked to take off his waistcoat and cravat while he began to release the binding, kissing every chance they got. As Rebecca was about to settle herself into the hay, Ben suddenly stopped her.

Confused, she was about to object when she noticed him laying his jacket behind her.

“So it doesn’t scratch your skin,” he said softly.

Rebecca looked at Ben, locking her eyes with his gaze. She knew he was proud of his uniform, and that wearing that very coat before his father that day had meant everything to him. The hay could be dirty and unforgiving, and he might be reprimanded the next day for that. But Ben didn’t care. All that mattered was her.

As they were both sitting there, neither clothed from the waist above, she could feel a creeping feeling of warmth that only happened when she thought of him. The dark nights in York City, alone in her bed and worried that he might be the victim of another surprise raid, or if she would ever see him again, made her mind swim with thoughts she had been trying to fight away. It was becoming even more apparent now that Rebecca was losing that fight.

“Are you all right?” Ben whispered.

Rebecca shook her head, “Not even close.”

Before he could reply she kissed him again, pulling him down into the hay. Ben broke the kiss to trail tiny ones to her neck, exploring parts of her he’d had yet to find. He was losing himself in her wonderful scent. She busied herself with his belt, but his hands drew her away (no, not yet), returning to their place in unraveling the binding. 

Finally reaching the end of the cotton, Ben placed it aside and left a soft string of little nibbles towards her breasts. Rebecca roped her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as he delicately tongued a nipple, his other large hand massaging the heavy globe it fell upon. This was different than the last times. There was something more.

Ben removed the breeches, socks and boots she wore, leaving her completely naked before him. It was a beautiful, welcome sight. One he had envisioned over and over. Rebecca again tried to reach for his belt, but he shied away. It seemed he’d formulated a plan.

She watched as the golden-haired man parted her thighs and looked to her core with a devout interest. Ben had grown curious since their last moments in bed about how he might better service her, and being the eager lover he was, decided not only his manhood would satisfy her that night. Rebecca suddenly gasped as she felt the warmth of his breath, and the unfamiliar sensation of what she realized was his tongue along her sensitive folds.

Ben began to explore her, experimentally pressing a finger along the area he believed her centre of pleasure to be. Watching him, and knowing full well he was inexperienced, Rebecca subtly guided him to the place he was looking for. She demonstrated for a moment how he might stimulate her, and Ben, having concentrated on her teaching, followed up with gentle movements. He loved seeing her enjoy herself at his expense. 

After a few minutes of exploration, Ben decided to echo what she showed him, but this time, with his tongue. Her reaction was stellar: Rebecca’s hands balled into fists that pulled his hair, squirming as she lay at his mercy. But Ben didn’t mind. He chose to continue until he knew she’d had her fill.

And then, she said his name. No, she’d  _moaned_  it. Instantly, he was hard as a rock, and felt himself grow heavy with need. 

“Please,” she whispered, her voice laced with yearning, “I need you, all of you, now…”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that.

Rebecca had dreamed about this act. She savoured every moment as he satisfied her craving for him, one that only he could achieve. There were handsome men all over the colonies ripe for the picking, she knew that, but there was only one Ben. 

And then, Rebecca realized something.

She could have had this whenever she wanted, from nearly anyone. Her “exotic beauty” as it was called, afforded her many a look from a stranger. Robert surely didn’t mind what she did in bed with someone. But this was different.

Rebecca didn’t want to think about other men. She wanted one man, and only him. She wanted him then, that night, and the next night, and forever. Rebecca wanted to wake up next to Ben Tallmadge in a proper bed, and to go about the world as his. To hold onto his arm like the young married couples she saw about in York City. She wanted to mourn Samuel with him, and to share his burdens that he’d been keeping from her. No hiding, no sneaking about. No more cabins in New Jersey or even this barn. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in her life.

“Stop.”

Ben, who had undid his belt, frowned at her, “Is something wrong?”

Rebecca could feel her cheeks burning again, “I’m sorry that I disobeyed your orders when you just wanted to protect me, and that I scared you when all you wanted to do was save your father-”

“Rebecca, it’s-”

“Please don’t cut me out,” she continued, “I couldn’t stand it if I could never see you again.”

Ben was shocked, “I… wasn’t planning to.”

“It’s not… it’s not just about  _this_ , Ben,” Rebecca said, a few tears escaping, “Everyone I’ve ever cared for has been removed from my life, and I… I don’t want that, with you…”

Ben swallowed, “Well, what do you want?”

She forced herself to look at him; to see those big blue eyes that haunted her when they were apart, “I want to help you mourn your brother. To shoulder your burdens, even the ones you’re trying to hide from everyone. I want to know what makes you angry, what makes you sad, and everything I could possible learn about you. If something were to happen to you or me, I wouldn’t be able to handle knowing I never told you… that… that I…”

Ben’s heart was pounding in his chest.

Rebecca clenched her fists as she finally gave in, “For God’s sake, remove me from the ring, do whatever you may, just please know that no matter where I go or how I choose to live throughout this war, nothing can stop me from acknowledging the fact that I am hopelessly, and  _pathetically_  in love with you, Ben Tallmadge.”

“…do you mean that?” Ben asked, his voice trembling.

“Of course I do,” Rebecca said, looking down, “If you want me to get dressed and leave tonight while there’s still time-”

Ben kissed her with everything he had in him, cradling her chin. She kissed him back, fearing for his answer.  _Please, please, let me get what I want, just this once._

 “Rebecca Starling, Morgan, or whichever name you choose,” Ben told her, “I have loved you since New Jersey, and my feelings have only grown stronger since.” He paused. “And if you might wish for me to prove it now…”

Rebecca returned the kiss, and Ben finally let her remove his belt. They fell into the hay, too lost in each other to try to conceal their cries of pleasure. For the first time, Ben wasn’t thinking about the opinions of other in camp as they rolled around together. And Rebecca, so her guard down at last, followed his lead. As far as they were concerned, there was no world around them. No war to speak of. It was only him and her, with no worries or thoughts of tomorrow. 

As it came to a finish, Ben planted a kiss on her forehead and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind if I remain here tonight…”

“Major, it would be dreadfully cold without you,” Rebecca said with a hint of a smile as Ben pulled on his breeches and she chose to sleep in his shirt.

Ben groaned, “Stop calling me by my rank, Rebecca.”

She giggled and snuggled up to him, finding warmth in the crook of his neck, “But your annoyance is endearing…”

“Mmm,” Ben ran his hand up and down her back, tracing the curve of her hip, “As much as I reprimand your actions in Setauket, I confess your arrival in camp is a good thing.”

“Oh, is it now?” Rebecca laid her head on his chest, “Can’t imagine how that might benefit you…”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Ben said, laughing a little,“But what I meant was we’ve started coding letters and reports, and all the agents have codenames as well. You’ll need to learn to use coding, invisible ink and choose a name.”

“Sorry?” Rebecca looked at him, “Did I just hear you say ‘invisible ink’?”

“It’s strange, yes, but I will show you tomorrow,” Ben explained, “Now, I have already chosen a number for you - 855 - but I will leave it up to you to choose a name.”

“What is your codename?”

“John Bolton.”

“Well, that’s  _boring_.”

“And I suppose you’ve got one better?”

“Always,” Rebecca said smugly, “I think I’ll be Saul Morgan. Saul for Paul’s former name in the Bible, and Morgan for my father.”

“Rebecca, that’s a man’s name.”

“Exactly, so they’ll be seeking out a man, not a woman,” she said, “Doesn’t it make sense?”

Ben sighed, “I need you to pick a woman’s name, or else we’ll go without.”

“Fine, I’ll go without,” Rebecca said simply, “I don’t need an alias, anyway.” She paused. “What’s Abraham Woodhull’s?”

“Samuel Culper,” Ben replied, “And you’ll be happy to know Caleb has also opted to not use an alias.”

“Well, John, I suppose that’s just fine.”

Ben playfully flipped them over, “How many times have a told you to call me by my actual name?”

Rebecca smirked, “Are you going to order me, Major Tallmadge?”

She burst out laughing when he gave a defeated look. Ben gave up and decided to kiss her instead. Knowing full well it was the middle of the night and that the chance of them being discovered was fully evident, Ben and Rebecca chose instead not to care. For all the losses each had endured, at last there was joy to be had, and neither of them were willing to give that up.

Love, it seemed, could live among the ruins.


	11. Spymaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben teaches Rebecca the technical side of espionage. Caleb is entranced by a new arrival to camp. Nathaniel Sackett reunites with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW at the end.

Ben awoke before Rebecca that morning. It was a welcome surprise to find her in his arms, sleeping peacefully. He allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the warmth of their bodies together, and was reminded of the revelation of the day before. She had marched into battle to help him save his town and his father, and that night confessed her love for him. To say Ben was over the moon would be an understatement.

Quietly he dressed, careful not to wake her. Replacing his coat with hers, Ben also took the liberty of covering her with the shirt she had been wearing so he might wear his. The entire time, the young Major couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wished he could have remained there with her for the entire day.

But duty called. Exiting the barn, Ben walked straight into Caleb.

“Ah, Benny boy, good mornin’,” Caleb said, a sly grin on his face, “Noticed yer pillow didn’t have a mark on it, so I reckon ya didn’t sleep in yer tent.”

Ben swallowed, but maintained his composure, “Yes, well, I had to reprimand Miss Starling for that fiasco she pulled yesterday.”

“Aye,” Caleb nodded, “Speakin’ ‘o which, found this while I was out for my morning constitutional.” He presented Ben with a brown leather pack he recognized. “Look familiar? She’s got ‘er lady clothes stuffed in it. Think maybe the little soldier might wanna change into that if she’s bound for York City.”

“Thank you, Caleb,” Ben said, accepting it, “I’ll give it to her immediately.”

“I bet you will.” Caleb winked at him, and Ben gave him a look.

Rebecca was rubbing her eyes when Ben closed the door behind him. As he approached, he noticed she had a glow about her. Perhaps, if it were possible, she was no longer strained, but happy?

“I suppose there’s much that needs your attention, Major Tallmadge,” she said with a knowing smile, “But you couldn’t even wait until I woke up?”

“I’ve only stepped away for a moment,” Ben assured her, “I think, before I bring you to meet the man who is helping me maintain the ring, you ought to be dressed as Rebecca, and not a soldier.”

“You found my pack?” Rebecca frowned, standing up.

She was stark naked, which Ben observed with slight arousal.

“Well, Caleb found it, actually,” Ben replied, distracted by the curves of her body, “It was smart of you to stash it away.”

“Not smart enough if it could be found,” Rebecca pouted as she fished out her dress, stockings and shoes, “Who are you taking me to meet?”

“His name is Nathaniel Sackett, and he’s well versed in the use of codes to-”

“Sackett, you said?” Rebecca finished her stockings, “As in, Westchester County?”

Ben frowned, “Yes, actually, do you know him?”

“Know him?” Rebecca laughed, “My father used to sell books to him! The few times we ventured into places that weren’t harbours or forest areas were when we met with Sackett. I used to play with his young daughter since we were close in age.”

“Well, I suppose he may remember you, then,” Ben replied, rather impressed, “As I have told him about you, but did not give a name.”

“Told him about me?” Rebecca mused, petticoat and shoes on at last, “Now I’m curious.” She began to fasten her corset. “I would assume he’s not aware of the ‘special relationship’ you hold with one of your spies.”

Ben blushed a little, “I wouldn’t call it that, exactly…”

“Then what would you call it? Because I think a courtship or anything of the formal nature is completely off the table. To do so would only put us in shame.”

Ben nodded, secretly feeling a tiny burst of joy hearing her refer to them as ‘us’, “I believe I call it love, then. There’s nothing shameful about that.”

Rebecca paused, “You know, you make it dreadfully hard to oppose crawling into the hay with you again, Ben.”

He smiled, “Believe me, if there wasn’t a war going on, that is exactly what we’d be doing.”

Rebecca finished dressing and rummaged through her pack, finding a bit of ribbon, and began to expertly braid her long, dark hair, “So we’ll meet with Sackett, you’ll show me the coding practices, and then I’ll return to York City, correct?”

Her words broke into Ben’s thoughts, “R-right, York City…”

Rebecca detected the bit of sadness in his voice, “You need me there, you said. I’m the only one you have in New York, aren’t I?”

Ben sighed, “Yes, but Abe is considering recruiting another man. I’ve had word that he’s heading there this week. So, if he does…”

Rebecca, having secured her braid, reached for his hands, “I know you’re trying to find a way for me to stay, but we both know I can’t. My place is in York City, as we agreed…”

They had agreed on that. In fact, the entire point of it all was that Rebecca, as a woman, could easily go about her business living there and gather intelligence. Now that it was spring, provisions would be coming in and ships would come from Europe carrying more soldiers. The British would be making plans and executing them promptly. It was absolutely vital that she remain there, and that she converse with Abe to ensure the state of things were still in good standing.

“…we should go see Mr. Sackett, I know he’ll be excited to see you again,” Ben said abruptly, “And if you like, I think Caleb brought in some French coffee last week.”

Relieved to step away from the painful conversation, Rebecca happily followed Ben to the exit of the barn. Stepping out after him, she was pleased to feel a gentle spring breeze. It seemed New Jersey wasn’t quite as cold as New York.

And, like clockwork, Caleb Brewster was waiting for both of them.

“So, did the reprimand for disobeyin’ orders and takin’ up arms take all night?” Caleb asked with a huge grin on his face.

Ben clenched his jaw, “Caleb-”

“No, Ben, it’s fine,” Rebecca said, smirking, “Lieutenant Brewster should know that you take these offenses very seriously, as you should, and I can confirm that Major Tallmadge ensured that I was  _quite_  reprimanded for a good hour.” 

Caleb shook his head in disbelief as Ben looked visibly uncomfortable, “Yer grown’ on me, ya know that? And well done, Tall Boy.” He patted his friend on the back.

“Well, I need to show Rebecca how to use the ink solution and the codes that Sackett and I have worked on,” Ben said, clearing his throat, “So while this is very important conversation-”

“Sackett’s a bit tied up at the moment, Ben,” Caleb explained, “I reckon it’s a good thing you two cleared out of the barn, since he’s got all these contraptions from Philadelphia and the like comin’ in fer storage.”

“Philadelphia?” Rebecca frowned, “What could he need from Philadelphia?”

“Beats me,” Caleb said, “But I saw a few carts come in, oh, maybe an hour ago? Could need help unloadin’, and since I’m curious I think I’ll head over. Yer welcome to come if ya like.”

Rebecca looked at Ben and shrugged, “I don’t mind helping.”

“Rebecca, you’re not expected to lift anything.” Ben said plainly.

Rebecca scoffed and walked after Caleb anyway. Ben shrugged, following them.

—

“Be careful with that one, it’s quite fragile!” Nathaniel Sackett directed two young soldiers as they carried a strange looking instrument towards the barn. As Caleb, Ben and Rebecca approached him, they saw several carts filled with various tables, items and unfamiliar apparatuses. It was certainly an odd sight, let alone something they never saw in camp.

“Ah! There you are,” Sackett said upon noticing Ben and Caleb, “I finally got everything sent in from Philadelphia and New York. It only took them forever to get it cleared. Congress is slow, you know…” He paused upon seeing Rebecca. “… have we met before?”

Rebecca grinned, “Mr. Sackett, I’m sure you remember my father’s ‘bookstore’ just outside Westchester.”

Immediately, the man’s eyes lit up, “Heavens! Rebecca Morgan, is that you?” 

“The very same,” she replied, hugging him tightly, “It is wonderful to see you, sir.”

“You know this one, Sackett?” Caleb asked.

“Yes! Rebecca’s father used to get those hard-to-find volumes for me for years,” Sackett replied, “And he always brought her with him when he did deliveries. She used to read to my daughter, since they weren’t too far apart in age. Oh, that reminds me!” He turned. “Molly, dear! Come quickly!”

From within the sea of carts and soldiers moving furniture, a young woman emerged who looked to be not much older than eighteen. With porcelain skin, long wavy brown hair and a soft dusty rose on her cheeks, she was the epitome of a New England beauty. Far too innocent to be exposed to the brutalities of war.

“Yes, Papa?” the young woman said as she reached them.

“You remember Rebecca Morgan, don’t you?” Sackett asked her.

“I do indeed!” Molly broke into a huge smile, “So wonderful to see you again, Miss Rebecca.”

“It is nice to see you too, Molly,” Rebecca said, “But you may call me by my first name now, as enough time has passed, don’t you think?”

Sackett then turned to the two men, “Major Tallmadge and Lieutenant Brewster, this is my daughter, Molly Sackett, who is completely and utterly off limits to both of you.”

“Papa!” Molly protested, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no, your father’s right, a soldier does not make a good husband in these times,” Rebecca said firmly, though she snuck a flirtatious glance at Ben, “Besides, you’re not here to find someone to marry, are you?”

“Welcome to Morristown, Miss Sackett.” Ben said politely. 

Caleb didn’t say anything.

Sackett nodded approvingly, “Now then, once they get all those things into the barn we can begin to discuss what you’ve procured for me, Major.”

“Actually, sir, Rebecca is a subject worthy of discussion.” Ben replied.

“Oh, Ben wants to ‘discuss’ her, alright,” Caleb said with a smirk. Ben shot him a warning look.

Sackett looked from Ben to Rebecca, “I beg your pardon?”

“Rebecca resides in York City, sir.” Ben said simply. This seemed to help him clue in.

“Weeeelll. Very good, then. I’ve given proper direction to these men, let’s walk to the cart and evaluate.” The four began to follow Sackett.

“Are you a camp follower, Rebecca?” Molly asked.

“No, Molly, I’m…” she glanced at Ben, “Working with Major Tallmadge, sort of in the same way your father is.”

“Is your father helping with the cause too? Or is he one of the privateers who remains neutral?”

Ben stiffened.

“Actually, my father died a few years ago, Molly,” Rebecca said, “But it was kind of you to ask.”

“Oh goodness, I’m terribly sorry,” Molly said, genuinely apologetic, “But I really am so pleased to see you again. I was always fond of your visits.” She looked back at Ben and Caleb, “Are you all childhood friends?”

“No, just Caleb and I,” Ben replied, “We’re from the same town.”

“So how do you know them?” Molly asked. She was full of questions.

“It’s a long story, Molly, perhaps for another time.”

The group reached a tent, to which Ben held open the door for everyone. It was where he and Sackett had been working for the past little while, and was filled with maps, papers, a curious amount of hard boiled eggs and various shelves of books. It appeared to be a place of much discussion and business, but to Rebecca, there was a warmth about it. A feeling of belonging.

“Ah, we need one more chair!” Molly said instantly, “I’ll go get one from one of the carts-”

“Let me,” Caleb volunteered, quickly exiting the tent. Ben and Rebecca exchanged glances.

“Now,” Sackett began, shuffling through a stack of books on the table, “You are agent 855, I presume?”

Rebecca nodded, “So it would seem.”

“Alias?”

“I have none.”

“Right, like 355,” Sackett noted, “And how long have you operated out of York City?”

“Since November,” she said, “Although, I have only sent one report.”

Sackett looked up at her and frowned, “And why is that, my dear?”

Rebecca took a deep breath, “There has been little activity in the winter, sir. I know the bounties were up come January, but it’s almost as though they took the time to rest. Or, from what I heard, to plan.”

Ben was intrigued but also a little insulted, “You didn’t mention that last bit to me.”

“No, because I’ve not had the chance to,” she explained, as Caleb slipped in with a chair, making a place next to Molly, “The boarding house where I live and work tends to be quiet, but we get a series of Tories and Whigs day in and day out. Everyone’s… tired, if that makes sense.”

“I would say it does, given the occupation,” Sackett agreed, “But you’ll resume once you return, yes?”

Rebecca nodded, “I will. There is a route I take to the morning market that allows me to pass by the docks and loading yard. Being a woman means I don’t fall under much suspicion.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true, my dear,” Sackett said, “I would advise you not to wander too far. Now then, have you been briefed on code?”

Rebecca shook her head and glanced at Ben, “Today is the day I learn.”

“Right, let me show you now,” Ben rose and went to the desk, picking up the applicator and ink, along with paper and a quill, “Don’t let the smell deter you, it works quite well.”

As Sackett decided to ask Molly a few questions regarding the code books she’d sorted for him, Ben placed the paper in front of Rebecca and dipped the quill in the ink. He offered it to her and she wrote her name, all the while Ben watched her careful hand. How had he not noticed the grace of her penmanship before? As Rebecca hit a snag in the paper, Ben reached to help, muttering something about the quill having been overused in the past month. That might have been true, but Ben just wanted an excuse to touch her.

Rebecca felt a heat between them that made her cheeks burn. As Ben explained the ink and the various examples where it could be used- in between the lines of books, on sheet music, on the back of another letter- she felt herself becoming overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. It would be inappropriate to do that in front of the others, but Rebecca couldn’t ignore it. She filed it away for later.

Ben rested his free hand on the small of her back as she followed his instructions, applying just the right amount of applicator (Sackett had told them not to waste it, after all) and they waited. Rebecca leaned forward to watch it, excited to see the reveal, and Ben had to avoid the vision of her generous chest resting in his gaze. He almost wished he’d not fallen asleep and stayed awake all night admiring her, if only to avoid the torture of being unable to touch her now.

“It’s working!” Rebecca announced with astonishment as her own name was revealed on the page before her, “Oh, that is brilliant.”

“Now I just need to show you the code we write in,” Ben said, opening the code book he’d kept with him, “It’s rather… comprehensive, to say the least.”

Rebecca spent most of the day studying the code Ben had presented her with, and practicing how to properly use it. Sackett had an old book that he’d used when he first developed it and allowed her to practice there, so she sat and worked at it. Once she had it, she began to copy it over into a book she carried.

Ben answered a bit of correspondence and supervised a drill, but took breaks to come back and check on her. As expected, Rebecca was doing well with understanding the code. The third or fourth time he stepped in the tent, however, he found her to be alone. By this point she was just ensuring she’d correctly copied it all.

“I’m doing just fine, Ben, don’t worry,” Rebecca said, almost laughing.

“I know, but I’ve come back for this,” Ben said quietly as he kneeled beside her.

He cupped her chin and kissed her softly, his free hand resting on her cheek. Rebecca smiled into the kiss, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over her. God, did she wish she could just take him to bed again, if only to fall into his arms.

Hearing the noise of Sackett and Molly just outside, Ben quickly rose to his feet, and scurried out like a naughty child. Rebecca smiled to herself. What a wonderful secret to keep.

—

It took Rebecca most of the day to copy everything over, and even longer to ensure she had the coding understood. She did a practice letter with Molly and wound up needing to try a second. Sackett’s code was more difficult than expected, but that was a good thing. The more unbreakable, the better.

Night was falling when at last she emerged from the tent, exhausted. Caleb had brought her food during her work period, and Rebecca realized that French coffee was easily better than whatever the Americans had. Stretching, she saw Molly approaching her.

“Lieutenant Brewster, Major Tallmadge and I are sitting by the fire, and I’ve made you a place if you like,” Molly offered, “Papa is busy going over the list of items received from Philadelphia.” She paused, then added, “He also said I can only sit with them if you are present to ensure no inappropriate behaviour.” 

Rebecca smiled a little, “I’d be happy to sit with you, Molly.”

Relieved, Molly led her to one of the many communal fires in camp, where Ben and Caleb were discussing something regarding Setauket. The conversation died just as the two women reached them, and Ben rose to help Rebecca to a place next to him, naturally.

“How did it go?” Ben asked, keenly interested.

“I think I’ve finally got it all down,” Rebecca replied tiredly, “And I must admit, it’s an impressive code.”

“Aye, Sackett knows what he’s doin’,” Caleb agreed, pouring whiskey into a tin mug.

“Rebecca, I was wondering where you’ve been these past few years,” Molly said, “Where did you go?”

“Well, after my father passed, I was taken to Oyster Bay,” Rebecca said, feeling Ben’s curious eyes on her, “And I lived with… I lived with a family there.”

“What were they like?” As usual, Molly was full of questions.

Rebecca sighed, “Not… kind, I know that.”

“Oyster Bay’s a Quaker settlement,” Ben said, “And not far from Setauket… what was the family name?”

“Hill,” Rebecca said, shifting a little, “But they’re no longer in the area, nor were they Quakers…” She paused. “Jonathon Hill, and his two daughters, Lydia, my age, and Hannah, a year younger, were not fond of my being there. I believe my adoption was charity, and an attempt to integrate me into society.”

“How’s that?” Caleb asked, also intrigued. 

Rebecca folded her hands, staring into the fire, “Without being here for the next few hours, there is one story that sticks out in my head from my time there…”

_The Pale Man had left for the day, heading out to do business in town. He had instructed the three young women to work on their needlepoint, as his sister would be visiting soon and was eager to see their progress. Rebecca, then sixteen, hated needlepoint, but knew better than to complain. She was left alone in the parlour with the two sisters for the afternoon._  
  
When the door closed, Lydia looked up from her needlepoint and met the eyes of her smirking sister, “What was that peculiar thing you found this morning, Hannah?”  
  
She grinned and reached underneath her chair, “Oh, just a strange little volume. Filthy as it is, I still find it quite the find.”   
  
To Rebecca’s amazement and utter horror, her prized Poems of a Young Woman’s Heart was in her hands.  
  
“Give it back!” she demanded, to which both sisters laughed.  
  
“I think not. You’ve hidden it from Father and from us. You’re a guest in this house, remember?” Lydia said firmly.  
  
“And such a sinful book it is,” Hannah tutted, “A French translation that speaks of ungodly sins! You really are a witch.”  
  
“Please,” Rebecca said, trying to remain calm, “I’ll put it away, I won’t tell him I have it…”  
  
“Why? So you can cast your evils on us?” Lydia said, taking the book from Hannah and standing by the fire.  
  
“Lydia, I swear it, the book is harmless-”  
  
“Did you get this from that criminal father of yours? Or did those French devils give it to you?” Lydia held it above the flames, to which Rebecca screamed.  
  
“Lydia, don’t, please!” Rebecca lunged at her, but was held back by Hannah.  
  
Lydia opened the volume to the first page, “Listen to this! It turns out the pirate could write!”  
  
“He was a privateer, not a pirate-”  
  
Lydia didn’t listen, only read Rebecca’s beloved father’s words out loud in a mocking tone, “‘To my darling daughter on her birthday. May you always find splendour within these pages, and be inspired to follow a path all your own. I am proud of everything you have become. Love, Papa.’“ She laughed. “He wasn’t even your real father, was he?”  
  
“No, and I-,” Rebecca was knocked onto the floor by Hannah, who sat on the middle of her back, and found herself pinned down by Lydia shoe on the back of her neck, “Stop it!”  
  
The sound of the spine of the book tearing made her wail. The sisters only giggled, thinking her pathetic.  
  
“You’re a savage, and we won’t have your filthy book in this house,” Lydia declared, tossing the book into the fire, “Don’t you ever forget it.”  
  
They released her and Rebecca flew to the fireplace, but it was too late. She watched helplessly, tears running down her face, as her father’s writing curled and turned to blackened ash. It was the only thing from him she still had, and now it was gone forever.

”How wretched,” Molly shook her head, “Were they liked that all the time?”

Rebecca nodded, “Their father encouraged their behaviour, if anything.” She felt Ben gently touch her hand, and returned the gestured by lacing their fingers.

Molly sighed sadly, “I don’t know how you could stand it.”

”There were these neighbours, the Townsend family, that had a son and daughter close to my age,” she said, her mood lifting at the mention of them, “That was how I could stand it. I escaped there when things got to be bad. Only found out from their father recently that they wanted to adopt me, but Jonathon Hill wouldn’t allow it.”

“Jesus,” Caleb said under his breath, “You an’ yer bad luck, Becks, ya sure someone ain’t put a curse on ya?”

Rebecca frowned at him, “’Becks’?”

“Well, ya can’t expect me to call ya by yer full name all the time, can ye?” Caleb said a-matter-of-factly. Ben smiled to himself, knowing this meant Caleb was finally liking Rebecca. Only his friends received an honorary Caleb Brewster-approved nickname.

A silence fell among the group for a moment.  
  
“Is Rebecca your wife, Major Tallmadge?” Molly asked.

Caleb choked on his whiskey, quickly trying to amend himself by clearing his throat. Rebecca felt her cheeks flush and avoided looking at any of them. Ben, who was completely taken aback like those around him, stuttered to answer the question, “N-no, Molly, of course not.” He’d tried to sound like he felt it was preposterous. 

“Oh,” Molly seemed unfazed, “Are you courting, then?”

Ben desperately looked to Rebecca for help.

She smiled a little, “Ben and I just work together, Molly. That’s all.”

“Sure ya do.” Caleb said under his breath.

“See? Caleb knows what I mean,” Molly confirmed, “The whole time Papa was discussing your place in York City, Ben kept looking for reasons to touch your hand, or your shoulder, and you always welcomed it, not to mention you were kissing when you thought we’d all left-”

Ben was clenching his jaw uncomfortably when Rebecca shook her head at Molly, “We’re not discussing this tonight.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed if you love him,” Molly said, “You’re allowed to care for someone.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Rebecca said with a sigh.

“Complicated, is it?” Caleb commented, “Why, ‘cause o’ what happened in Setauket?”

“Caleb…” Ben warned him.

“What happened in Setauket?” Molly asked.

“Nothing, Molly, it’s not important-”

“Course it is,” Caleb said, “Ya shoulda seen this girl. She had ‘er soldiers breeches on and ran under Selah Strong’s command-”

“-After I ordered her not to.” Ben said firmly. 

“Wait, you actually fought in a proper battle?” Molly was excited, “Just like you used to say when you would visit Papa and me!”

Rebecca shrugged, “I hardly did anything, Molly. Major Tallmadge ensured that.”

“I  _ensured_  you didn’t get hurt.” Ben said defensively.

“I would have been just fine, I’ve fought men before.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Well I’ve saved you on more than one occasion, haven’t I?”

“Mother an’ father are fightin’ again,” Caleb said, finishing his whiskey.

Both Ben and Rebecca each gave him a look.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a fight between you,” Molly said sweetly, “I really did think you to be married.”

“Well, we’re not,” Rebecca said, standing up, “I’m going to go get my pack, and get ready to leave for York City.”

“What, now?” Caleb frowned at her, “It’s nighttime, Becks, you’ll run into somethin’ out there-”

“I can handle myself,” Rebecca said, already making her way to Ben’s quarters where he’d placed her bag. 

Ben, knowing full well he’d played a part in this, waited a few moments before he sighed, standing up and walking after her.

Molly looked at Caleb, “I hope I haven’t upset them.”

“Yer only pointin’ out tha obvious,” Caleb replied, refilling his cup, “Ben’s been mad for her since they met. As for Becks, well… she’s a bit tougher ta read, but I reckon she wouldn’t stick around if she didn’t like him.”

“May I try some of that?” Molly dared.

“What, whiskey?” Caleb looked at her quizzically, “Ya’ve never had it?”

Molly shook her head, “Papa won’t let me.” She offered her empty tin mug.

“Well, don’t tell him I let ya, then,” Caleb said firmly, pouring a tiny amount into her cup.

Molly brought it to her lips and took a tiny sip, only to wrinkle her nose and grimace. She starting to cough and splutter, her eyes watering. It was clearly too strong, but she swallowed it anyway, feeling it burning her throat as it went down. Even in her disgust, she was still adorable.

Caleb smiled a little, “Not to yer liking, Miss Sackett?”

Molly shook her head, laughing, “My curiosity has been satisfied, Mr. Brewster, that is for sure.”

Caleb took her cup and poured the remaining whiskey in his own, “My friends call me ‘Caleb,’ Miss Sackett.”

“Are we to be friends?” she asked, happily accepting as he filled her empty cup with a much gentler tea.

“If ya’d like that.” Caleb replied, feeling a bit nervous.

“I would like that very much, Caleb,” Molly responded, “And you may call me ‘Molly.’“

“Won’t yer father be a bit displeased?”

Molly shrugged, “Papa won’t object to you calling me by my name. He worries, you know, about the cruelties of the world and the war. That someone or something might hurt me. I understand his fears, it’s only been the two of us since my mother died when I was little, and my brother not long ago.”

Caleb nodded, “Lost my mum young, too… got sick in winter, gone by spring. ‘long with my two sisters, an’ a brother.”

“Perhaps that is why life is so precious, Caleb,” Molly said, “And maybe I’m a sentimentalist, but I think love and kindness are the things that will get us through this war. No amount of turning to their levels of evil will free us.”

Caleb sighed, “Maybe…” He was already a little jaded from what he’d seen.

They both remained there quietly, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the company of each other. Caleb was growing to become fond of Molly, even after having known her for only a day. He considered her words carefully and tiredly wished that they might somehow be true.

“Major Tallmadge won’t let Rebecca travel alone tonight, will he?” Molly asked, a little worry in her voice.

“No, no, he won’t,” Caleb assured her.

“Good,” Molly said quietly, “I know she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, but… even the people with the most strength need to rest sometimes.”

Caleb smiled a little, “Ben will make sure ‘o that, don’t ya worry, Molly.”

—

Rebecca stepped inside the tent and Ben closed the door behind her, ensuring it was shut for privacy. She looked around, seeing a small writing desk and chair, a modest wardrobe, some books and a cot. So this was where her beloved would lay his head at night.

Ben, who had been right on her heels, went to the desk, “Your pack is here, but I would caution traveling tonight-”

“I need to get back to the city,” Rebecca said firmly, “The sooner I leave the better-”

Ben cupped her chin in his hands and kissed her forcefully. Rebecca, starved for his touch, melted into him and relaxed almost immediately. A wave of warmth came over her as she felt him press his forehead to hers.

“I don’t wish to fight with you before you leave,” Ben said quietly, “And I certainly would like for you to head out in the morning, when it’s safer.”

“I… can handle myself,” Rebecca said, but her voice was shaking. Ben’s hands had come to rest on her waist.

“I don’t doubt you can,” he whispered, placing a tiny kiss on her ear and trailing to her jawline. Rebecca knew he was trying to seduce her, and was succeeding.

“But I… I need to get there… in good tiiiiiiime…” she struggled as Ben nibbled at the sensitive flesh of her neck, following by him pulling her onto his cot.

“I apologize that there isn’t a proper bed,” Ben said quietly, attaching his lips the her collarbone.

“I love you,” Rebecca whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as she witnessed her own words. 

Ben’s warm gaze told her the same. They undressed one another, pausing for kisses, taking their time. Tonight would be the last night for possibly months, so the urgency was unwarranted.

Rebecca indulged herself in tracing her fingertips along his muscular body, enjoying the results of his cavalry life. Ben, who was so eager for her touch, savoured it. She focused on his shoulder, in particular the tiny wound he’d gotten the day they met, and planted a kiss upon it.

“It’ll leave a handsome scar,” she whispered, “I only pray you don’t match it with others.”

“Because you’ll not be there to dress it?” Ben asked.

“Because I don’t enjoy seeing you in pain,” Rebecca said, brushing a hair from his face and running her thumb along his cheek, “When I stopped by camp after your fall in the Delaware, you were… struggling.”

Ben frowned, “How?”

“You were scared, much like a child,” she said, “And I know it was the sickness, but still… war makes even the bravest men fearful.”

“The only thing I fear is waking up tomorrow and knowing you’ll be gone,” Ben said, his fingers exploring her hair.

“Ben…”

“Mmm?”

“I was thinking,” Rebecca said slowly, “When I send my reports… perhaps I will send a second letter. One addressed to you, to be read only by you.”

Ben paused, intrigued.

“Perhaps, in the correspondence, I might allow you the chance to hear my thoughts, and feelings about things. Outside of the ring, of course. Maybe I might even tell you about the latest book I’m reading, or some of the odder boarders we have.” Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t know if that interests you or not.”

Ben smiled a little, “I would be pleased to read anything in personal correspondence with you, my love.”

Rebecca pressed herself against him, letting Ben put his arms around her. She felt so small yet safe in his warm embrace. If all the talks of heaven after death were true, this was the one she hoped she might go to.

“Ben?”

“Yes?”

“Before I leave, can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

Rebecca crawled up to him, looking into his blue eyes, “Make love to me.”

As if she needed to ask.

It would prove to be a bit of a challenge in the tiny cot, but Ben was determined to give himself to her. He urged her to try to remain as quiet as possible, and Rebecca promised she would. After meticulous movements and making sure she was comfortable, Ben pressed into her at an agonizingly slow pace; Rebecca holding his face in her hands as he did so. Why did every time feel like the first time?

“I love you,” Ben whispered, burying his face in her neck as he started to move, Rebecca closing her eyes to enjoy him.

“And I love you,” she whispered back, running her hands along his skin. 

Ben silenced her moans with kisses, and Rebecca dug her nails into his back as a result, which surprisingly turned him on. Fearful of making too much noise, he kept his thrusts at a slow, gentle pace. The bit of stubble on his face dragged along her neck, giving Rebecca a touch of beard burn that he quickly apologized for, but she secretly relished. A later reminder of him would surely be a welcome one.

Rebecca learned that night that he could still make her climax that way. Ben followed rather quickly, which would have been embarrassing with someone else. But it was Rebecca, who seemed to adore him even more as her body treated him to such joys. She held him as he emptied himself inside her, trembling in her arms. Her Benjamin was just so beautiful, even in these moments of pure vulnerability.

As their heartbeats returned to normal, Ben wrapped his arms protectively around her in preparation for sleep. He didn’t want the morning to come, for it meant his love would leave yet again. His mind raced with possible ways to keep her here, but he knew deep down that she needed to be in the city. Perhaps his realization made him sadder than he realized, squeezing her a few times out of seemingly nowhere.

Recognizing this, Rebecca kissed him delicately, nuzzling her nose with his. She prayed they would meet again, sooner rather than later. For now, this moment together would have to serve as enough. 


	12. Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham and Rebecca reconvene in York City. Ben receives intel and a love letter. Robert believes he knows who Rebecca has been seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve played with the timeline, mostly of Abe’s arrival in York City a bit. Instead of October 14, 1777 like in the show, this is in the spring of 1777. Things are shuffled around a bit.

Rebecca was grateful for many things that morning. The weather was mild with some signs of rain, but it wouldn’t follow her to York City. She was lucky to have a cup of warm coffee and a light breakfast. But perhaps, most of all, she was thankful for having woke up next to Benjamin Tallmadge.

For once, they both seemed to wake up at the same time. Rebecca opened her eyes to see him stirring, his bright blue ones peering at her moments after. He was even more beautiful in the morning light, she thought, as his eyes rested on her sleepily.

“Did you sleep well, my love?” Ben asked her groggily, his hand resting on her cheek. He wanted to take this in as long as he could.

Rebecca nodded silently, leaning toward his touch. She absently ran a hand along his bicep, tracing along his bare skin, a privilege only she could have. There was so much warmth in his voice and body that she wished to preserve. It would be difficult to leave the tiny cot, let alone camp.

After allowing themselves time to bask in the morning glow, Ben and Rebecca rose to begin the day. Luckily for Ben, he had much work ahead of him, especially in terms of meetings and correspondence. He would need something to keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of her. As for Rebecca, the journey to York City would be tiresome, but it would allow her time to decide what to pen in her first (or perhaps, second) letter to Ben.

“I do hope we’ll see you again,” Molly pouted as Rebecca said her goodbyes not long after, “I will miss you. I’ve still so many questions.”

“Well, perhaps you might direct your curiosities to Lieutenant Brewster,” Rebecca suggested coyly, “The man was a whaler, you know. He’s been to Greenland.”

Molly’s eyes went wide with interest, “Greenland?”

“From what I heard, it’s not green,” Rebecca said, smiling and pulling Molly into a hug, “Take care of yourself, Molly.” 

“Best of luck to you, Rebecca,” Sackett said affectionately, “We’re counting on you to be our ‘man’ in New York.”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Sackett, sir,” Rebecca promised, patting him on the shoulder, “May your work be only as challenging as you prefer it.”

“Well, here’s hoping,” he replied, laughing. The man and his daughter proceeded in the opposite direction as Rebecca, Caleb and Ben walked towards the outskirts of camp.

When they reached the drop off point, Rebecca ensured her cloak was properly fastened and turned to Caleb, “Make sure you keep an eye on Molly. A proper one, I might add. She is a kind girl, and needn’t be corrupted by the war just yet.”

“I’ll do my best, Becks, but I doubt Sackett’ll let me near,” Caleb replied with a grin, and, Rebecca thought, a bit of blush, “You take care, all right?”

She nodded. Now, the difficult part. Ben stepped forward, looking every bit as apprehensive as she felt, “You’ll tell us if anything happens. If there’s reasonable danger, please do not stay and fight. You use the pass I gave you, and come straight to camp. It’ll be safer.”

“I know, I know,” Rebecca said, almost wringing her hands at the thought of failing the cause, “And I promise I’ll be careful.”

She avoided his gaze. Parting from Ben felt both unfair and melancholic, but Rebecca didn’t want to show it. The night before was proof of her feelings, certainly, but she only wanted to reveal them to him privately. As Ben lingered near, he brushed his hand against hers, clearly hoping for contact.

“For God’s sakes, Tall Boy, kiss yer lady goodbye,” Caleb quipped.

And, much to Rebecca’s surprise, Ben cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. It was unchaste, rough and sweet, all things she craved from him. When at last they parted, Caleb whistled.

“That will have to do until I see you again,” Ben said quietly, his face red with embarrassment. Rebecca responded by embracing him tightly, taking in his scent for memory’s sake. She hoped to memorize all of him.

“I love you,” she whispered quickly, and he repeated the words back to her.

“Tell a redcoat ta drop dead!” Caleb shouted after her as the three of them went their separate ways, prompting a smile from Rebecca as she headed down the beaten path. If she’d looked back, she would have seen Brewster patting his friend on the back, congratulating him. Hopefully, she would see both of them again.

—

Rebecca made it to York City quickly enough that evening, raspberry sherry tucked safely into her pack as promised. After dismounting and giving her horse some much needed food and rest, she walked into the boarding house to see Robert speaking with a customer regarding food times or something similar. It wouldn’t have been such an unusual sight if Rebecca hadn’t noticed said customer was Abraham Woodhull, who had to have arrived that morning.

Still, she had to maintain her cover. Waiting politely until Robert finished the conversation and he ascended the stairs, Rebecca approached her beloved friend with a friendly smile.

“Did someone order Long Island raspberry sherry?” she said slyly, prompting a small grin from Robert.

“And she returns at last,” he said, returning her devious tone, “I trust the trip was successful?”

“It was indeed,” Rebecca said, withdrawing the aforementioned sherry from her pack, “This one is supposed to be particularly good.” She kissed him on the cheek and turned her attention to the stairs, “I’ll just go set my things in, and then I’ll help you get ready to close up for the night.” 

And, for once, that was all she did. It was too dangerous to rendezvous with Abraham then. They would have to brief each other on things in the morning, or perhaps afternoon. It would all depend on when Robert wasn’t around to hear them.

That, and when Rebecca was feeling up to deal with Abe’s less than polite manner.

—

The next morning was busy as usual. The boarding house was full, with several different people coming and going. It was nice to be busy, Robert noted, and Rebecca agreed. This would be used to her advantage.

Abraham was eating his breakfast when Rebecca decided to converse, but not in a traditional manner. Offering to refill another man’s sherry, she accidentally knocked his fork on the floor, and in doing so, whispered for him to meet her behind the building when he was finished. Once she replaced the fork, Rebecca went about her business. Robert, who had gone to the cellar to retrieve supplies, thankfully was not a witness.

But Woodhull certainly took his time. The man was visibly disgruntled when he met her in the alley behind the boarding house, which was empty compared to the bustling streets. An ideal meeting place if ever there was one.

“Couldn’t help but notice you’re rather close with Townsend,” Abraham said immediately, catching her off guard, “You like that with all the men you associate with?”

Offended, and rightfully so, Rebecca replied sternly, “If you are asking me if I use female charms around every man I encounter, no, I do not. Robert and I are longtime friends, and we feign a marriage so I might stay here without judgement.”

“Ah,” Abraham crossed his arms, unconvinced, “Does Tallmadge know that?”

“As a matter of fact, he does,” Rebecca said, trying to keep her temper in check, “I’ve not called you back here to talk about my honour, or lack of, as you see it. I need to know what you’re reporting to him, so we might not send dual intelligence.”

“But you’re not sending intelligence,” Abe replied, actually confused, “You’re supposed to signal me if you have any. No, when I’m here, I take care of that and you go about your business.”

“Would it not make sense to have two at once?” Rebecca asked him.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Woodhull said, “I didn’t come all the way out here to argue.”

“And I don’t want to,” she assured him, “Listen. Tell me what you plan on looking into, and I will ensure I look elsewhere.” She didn’t like Abe nor did she wish to accommodate him, but he was Ben’s childhood friend and a valuable member of the ring. 

Abraham sighed, “All right, fine. Ben wants me to get numbers. Troops, ships, the lot. I know what I’m looking for. You?”

Rebecca relaxed a bit, “I procured something regarding General Lee in the fall. I was hoping to investigate further-”

“Whoa whoa, slow down, General Lee?” Abe’s demeanour changed at the mention of the name, “Abig- the woman stationed in Philadelphia, she sent us- Anna, actually. We received intelligence that Lee was a traitor.”

Rebecca blinked at him, “As did I. From a Major in the city. When did you receive this?”

“Just recently,” Abe replied, “Anna signalled before I left. Caleb should be giving it to him either today or tomorrow.”

“A double tip, almost,” Rebecca said in amazement.

“Tallmadge will get confirmations on one bit of information, from two different cities,” Abe said in disbelief, “I’ll be damned.”

“That’s the point,” she said, “Now, I have to get back to work, but let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Abe nodded, “I shall.”

“Good luck.”

“Same to you.”

—

Molly Sackett had always loved flowers, ever since she was a little girl. She enjoyed the scent, the presentation, and the things they represented. Molly was decidedly a romantic, unable to contain herself whenever she read tales of star-crossed lovers and the like. So it was appropriate that on this day, she was collecting flowers to add to her father’s cart and adjacent tent.

Intelligence was hard work, she knew that. Brightening up the place with a bit of light, even if it was just a small collection of wildflowers, could make a difference. Molly had heard her father discussing morale and the importance of keeping everyone in good spirits even in dire times, and she was determined to help.

Once she had finished arranging them in the cart, Molly listened outside the tent for noise, and heard none. Decidedly, Sackett and Major Talmadge were likely meeting with General Washington or the other officers. Since it was empty, Molly stepped inside with the pink flowers, ready to arrange them to brighten the room.

“Ben, I was thinkin’-”

Molly turned to see a very embarrassed Caleb Brewster, who clearly though Tallmadge and Sackett were in the room.

“Hi Caleb,” Molly said brightly, setting the flowers into the jar, “I think my father and the Major are in a meeting right now.”

Caleb nodded to her and was about to leave, but he stopped himself. He watched her, genuinely curious, “What, uh… what’re you doin’ there?”

“Oh, I’ve just picked some flowers from the woods,” Molly explained, “These are called Thimbleberries, I believe, which is funny because they’re more of a rose than a berry. They’re from the same family. That’s what my book says, anyway. I thought the room could use a bit of brightening.” 

She placed her hand behind one flower as Caleb gingerly approached her, “See the little bristles? Roses have thorns, but these have bristle clusters instead. They’re a bit sharp, so I would avoid touching them. The colour, though… it’s almost, hopeful, isn’t it?”

“An’ we need all the hope we can get,” Caleb said without thinking. 

“Anyway,” Molly said, completing her task, “Papa wants me to make a second codebook for Major Tallmadge, so I’m going to get working on that. I believe you’ll find the two of them together, since they have to brief Washington about Rebecca.”

“Right… thanks,” Caleb said, not sure why he was so shy all of a sudden. He’d talked to - and bedded- plenty of women. This certainly wasn’t any different.

“Also,” Molly said, “Rebecca told me you were a whaler, is that true?”

Caleb nodded, “Aye. For a few years, actually.” 

Molly’s eyes grew wide with interest, “Might I ask you more about it later? I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble. I know some men died on those expeditions. It’s just… it’s fascinating, is all, and you’re certainly far more interesting than books.”

Caleb shrugged, “I… don’t see why not.”

Molly grinned at him, “Wonderful. I look forward to talking with you more, Caleb.” She went back to ensuring the flowers were sitting properly as Brewster awkwardly exited the tent, his face flushing  deep red.

—

**A few days later**

Abraham had decidedly better luck than Rebecca, with his numbers being fully accurate. He’d chosen to ignore Ben’s suggestion of not putting his opinion down- something Washington found irritating- and included it anyway. But his reports were full but the end of the week, and ready to send forward.

Rebecca had ventured out, once in the late evening and often during the day during errands, to hang around British soldiers in hopes of catching word about Lee. There were a few murmurs, as a very drunk officer suggested Lee wasn’t the only one who might consider betraying the rebels, but that was all. She was rather disappointed, feeling it wasn’t quite enough.

Abe’s relationship with Rebecca, however, did not go unnoticed by Robert Townsend. Rebecca noted that she’d met Abraham before through a friend (which wasn’t a total lie), and recommended the boarding house to him. However, Robert found this odd. Abe drew attention to himself the first day, and asked one too many questions, which he knew she would have hated. An incident regarding eggs occurred one night (he liked his eggs… warm, apparently? Robert couldn’t understand that one), and he kept whispering to Rebecca as they passed each other. The last one, decidedly, caught Robert’s attention the most.

As a result, he pulled her aside one afternoon when things were decidedly less busy.

“I know we spoke of you keeping a lover if you so pleased,” Robert said quietly, “But I must protest, if your conquest of late, is  _ that _ man.”

Rebecca blinked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Woodhull,” Robert said plainly, but firm, “Are you sleeping with Woodhull?”

Rebecca gave him a look, “You have got to be kidding me, Robbie.”

“Answer the question.”

She scoffed, “Do you really think so little of me that I would choose him? The man is  _ married _ , Robert.”

“You continue to speak with him at breakfast when there is no need to do so,” Robert said, “Perhaps you think you’re being discreet, but I’ve seen it.”

“Robert Townsend,” Rebecca said, gritting her teeth and looking him in the eye, “I am not sleeping with Abraham Woodhull, and I’m thoroughly insulted you would think so. I only speak with him because he is one of the few regulars we have here that hasn’t made a pass at me. Now if you’re done making silly accusations of you ‘wife’, I have to run to the market.”

With those words, she stepped away, leaving Robert considerably embarrassed, but also not wholly convinced. He didn’t like Woodhull, and did not believe Rebecca to be telling the truth. For that, he would watch them more closely.

—

It wasn’t late when Caleb arrived back in camp after going to the drop in Setauket, but it wasn’t all that early in the evening, either. He was pleased to see he’d missed a bit of springtime rain, as some of the tents were dripping and there was a bit of dew in the grass. Brewster was also happy to find two sets of letters- one from Culper and one from 855- to bring to Ben. At this point in the war, they were desperate for intelligence.

Ben was still awake answering correspondence, and after hearing the bit of commotion outside his quarters, he rose from his desk just in time to meet Caleb.

“I come bearin’ gifts from York City,” he said triumphantly, handing the papers to Tallmadge, “Looks like we got lucky, an’ they’re gettin’ along.”

“Well, we won’t know that until I read them,” Ben said, giving his friend a smile, “Thank you, Caleb. Also… Sackett’s busy with Washington for the next hour, and I believe Molly is looking for you, by the cart.”

Caleb, caught completely off guard, simply nodded and went on his way. Ben laughed to himself, unaccustomed to seeing Brewster acting so odd around a woman. There was a first time for everything, it seemed.

When he found Molly, she was seated by the fire, holding a tin mug. Next to her, in the empty seat, was another mug, and a small bottle of whiskey. Clearly meant for him.

“Caleb, you’ve returned!” Molly said excitedly, “I’m glad I told Major Tallmadge to send you here. If you’re not too tired from the journey, perhaps, on account of Papa’s rare absence, we might talk for a bit?”

“Talk?” Caleb said, sitting down, “’fraid I’m not… accustomed to just talkin’ to ladies, Miss Molly.” He’d chosen to be bold then, if only to inform her that he wasn’t the gentleman she likely believed him to be. For added bravery, he poured the whiskey into his cup, a stark contrast to Molly’s own cup of tea.

“Well, I’m not accustomed to talking to whalers or traders,” Molly said, a pleasant smile on her face, “Perhaps, though, to make it fair, we might play a game of sorts. I’ll ask you something, and then can ask something of me.”

Caleb, who normally wouldn’t have bothered with such talk, was interested, “Right. I’ll bite on that.”

Molly nodded, pleased with herself, “Why’d you go into whaling in the first place? It can’t be easy.”

Caleb smiled a little, “No, it’s definitely not. It’s hard, cold, and pretty nasty work. Yer more likely to freeze ta death or drown before ya get yer pay. If ye had to ask me why I did it, it’s ‘cause I’ve always wanted to see the world, ya know? See what goes on beyond Setauket. Adventure, or somethin’ like that.”

Molly sipped her tea, her eyes remaining fixed on Caleb.

“I wanna know what a lass like you is doin’ in camp, when ya should be off gettin’ married or somethin’ like that,” Caleb said, the whiskey he’d been drinking on the boat ride back from the drop probably still resonating.

Molly, however, wasn’t the least bit bothered by this.

“We lost my mother shortly after I was born, so I grew up with my father and older brother, Frederick,” Molly explained simply, “Papa was always involved with something, and he needed me to be occupied as well, so whenever I wasn’t learning to do all the typical ‘woman’s duties’ with my Auntie Catherine, I was helping him. Everything from code to scientific advancements, Papa and I looked at together.” She paused, gazing into the fire. “We lost Frederick two years ago. He died on a prison ship, much like Major Tallmadge’s brother. I was terribly lonesome, and felt quite useless, keeping house while Papa was here. So I helped him bring all the contraptions, books and necessary supplies to camp, and will remain here to aid the cause as much as I can.”

Caleb was almost in awe of the story. Most women in camp were followers who came on account of their husbands. It seemed unusual that Sackett might be allowed to bring his daughter, but on account of his recommendation and standing with Washington, it would have been cruel to separate them.

“Yer brother didn’t deserve to die like that, Molly,” he managed to say, peering into his cup.

“Neither did Nathan Hale,” Molly said quietly, “Or any of those poor souls still on prison ships, or being held as hostages. I’m not immune to the horrors of war, Caleb. I know it’s an unkind world out there. But still, we must go on.”

Caleb raised his tin mug to her, and she raised hers. The clinked them together.

—

Abe’s letter was decidedly dull, but useful. Once again, he offered his opinion, and Ben groaned. The numbers were very much needed, which pleased him, so it made up for the other fact. Setting it aside, he picked up 855′s.

Certainly it did not contain as much valuable information as Abe’s, but it aided the narrative he already knew. The double confirmation of Lee’s traitor-ship, by way of both York City and Philadelphia, were appreciated by Washington. This letter agreed, and also offered a few rumours she had overheard from the officers in some of the less-than-kind houses in the city. Ben tried not to imagine her venturing there, which he knew she did alone. She promised to continue to keep an ear out for anything regarding the situation, such as possible movements or proposed further betrayals. Particularly, it was concerning that 855 noted there may be ‘others’ wishing to follow Lee’s example.

Setting both letters aside, it was time to pick up the one he looked forward to privately. Ben stood up from his desk and removed his jacket, setting it delicately on the back of his chair. He undid his waistcoat, allowing it to fall gently, and took off his boots. Settling into his cot, Ben opened the letter from Rebecca.

_ My Darling, _

_ I confess, York City is growing warm with spring time, but I find myself cold without your embrace. It is sinful to speak of, but I care little for the judgement of others. I have added a second quilt to my bed in hopes in might make up for your warmth, but unfortunately, I fear nothing (not even a wonderfully made quilt) could replace you. _

_ My mind is lovesick. I miss your bright eyes, your mouth and your hands. I even long for the sound of your gentle breathing in the early morning. Perhaps I could compile a list of all I love about you, but then, you might grow tired of our correspondence. _

_ There are constant rumours about Washington being taken out or killed, with various printing in the Gazette alluding to the deaths of many rebels. A tells me not to worry about it or the war in general, but he doesn’t realize how quickly I think of you whenever I see such talk. If anything were to happen to you, I don’t know how I might proceed in life. _

_ It is perhaps too bold to say, or maybe I am just too scared to speak it in person, but I was dreadfully lonely in the days before we met. A cloud of melancholy followed me that no longer seems to now. I have spent many years making comparisons of myself, decidedly unlike those who raised me, and feeling I could not fit anywhere. But, somehow, be it the grace of God, or fate, or whatever else, I fit next to you.  _

_ I fit in your arms, in that tiny cot. A place I will go in my head until we are reunited. _

_ Keep your heart warm until I am there again. _

_ All my love,  _

_ R. _

Ben read and reread the note, his heart swelling. He felt his face grow hot with blush, but he didn’t care. This letter would be kept under his pillow, to be referred to at night or in the times he found himself longing for her.

It was, he decided, wonderful to be in love with Rebecca Starling.


End file.
